


Liebes Kind, Lieber Vater

by Solitary_Shadow



Series: The Silenceverse - 'Mein Gott, hilf mir diese tödliche Liebe zu überleben' [4]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-08-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:12:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solitary_Shadow/pseuds/Solitary_Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two fathers, two daughters; little snippets from over two decades of life and learning experience. [Side story to 'Silence', but reading it is unnecessary. Till/Richard hints. Will contain respectful depictions of Rammstein daughters.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Father to Daughter

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not know any of the members of Rammstein nor members of their family, this is strictly a work of fiction and I do not profit nor claim to represent true aspects of their lives in this story.**

**Liebes Kind, Lieber Vater (Part 1) - A Rammstein Fanfiction**

\------------------------

** The Promise - From Till to Nele **

Autumn was dying fast within East Berlin; withered leaves scattered the ground, kicked aside by passersby, and a chill was settling rapidly over the city. The moon was thin that night, its glow covered over by the harsh orange glow of streetlights as it shone on a dilapidated block of flats. One streetlight, overlooking a still dimly-lit window, spluttered and went out.

And through this window, with the wall-mounted clock ticking half eleven indifferently, sat a single father looking after his sick young daughter.

"Please try, darling," Till whispered, holding his daughter close; but still Nele fussed and would not accept the medicine. He sighed and put one hand over his forehead, closing his eyes tiredly, before opening them again and looking down at her face. He'd been going through this routine for nearly three weeks now, and even though he was nearly out of his mind with exhaustion and worry, all he could think about was Nele and how all this had been his fault.

There was no point in trying to force her to swallow the medicine. She was obviously ill at ease, confused and in pain, and he wasn't doing much to help that situation. Deciding that he needed to take a little break, he kissed the top of her forehead and laid her back down, murmuring a lullaby until her breathing slowed and she fell into a feverish, shallow sleep. It would probably be no more than a quarter of an hour or so before she awoke again, but it was a little break at least.

Till walked towards the living room and bent down, briefly searching through his collection of records. Some music would help, preferably something classic to soothe both him and Nele. He'd just make it quiet so he wouldn't disturb the neighbours. Pulling a Mozart record out, he put it on to play on a quiet volume; the second act of _Die Zauberfl_ _ö_ _te_ began, and amongst the strands of the opera (sounding almost dissonantly cheerful compared to his current situation), he returned to the room to watch over his daughter. Watching. He couldn't neglect watching her for anything, not after what had happened.

He'd been careless. Six seconds had been all that was needed; he'd briefly turned to pick up the phone and Nele, who he'd briefly sat down on a nearby table, had lost her balance and fallen. By the time he'd thrown the receiver away and reached her with a cry, she was already lying on the carpet, whimpering and helplessly trying to get back up. For that brief mistake, she'd gained a sprained hip, a large bruise and a dressing; he'd gained crushing guilt and the sense of failure. He'd thought he'd been doing so well, too, for eight months - but he wasn't so sure anymore. As Till was thinking this Nele stirred, opening her green eyes - a mirror of his own - and stared blearily at him before reaching out with her arms, seeking his warmth and smell. He had just stood up to reach over her crib and pick her up when Nele, impatient and wanting to get to her father quickly, rolling over and hit her bad hip against the bars; there was a dull thud, and she almost immediately began to cry, although more out of her own frustration than the pain.

"Nele, darling, my love," Till cried as he wrapped the crying Nele up in his arms, rocking her and cooing to her in an attempt to soothe. "there now... I'm sorry, please don't cry... shh..."

His plead must have worked. Within seconds Nele quietened down, settling for simply nuzzling into her father's chest, comforted by what she'd been seeking in the first place. The man gave her a smile, however weak and weary it was, glad that she was all right and that no harm had been done. He sat down properly and shifted her so she was cradled completely in his arms, resting a hand on her forehead and feeling his heart ache at the unusual warmth she was exuding. Time to try the medicine again. He picked up a clean spoon and poured the medicine into it before pushing it lightly towards her, gently coaxing her to take it. Nele was already a fussy child as it was, feeding her anything could be a real chore when she would just refuse to open her mouth - and then he immediately felt terrible for thinking such a thing, when she was his daughter and he had the full responsibility of taking care of her. No good father would think that of his rightful job.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, finally getting her to swallow some of the liquid after a bit of hesitation. She gulped a little and made a face, but otherwise was silent. "I'm not very good at this."

As if to counter his words, Nele leaned against his chest, making soft cooing sounds and telling him that she was all right. "That's better, isn't it?" Till whispered softly, grasping her little hand. "there now. I'm here for you. I'm here."

Her tiny hand closed around his thumb gently as he moved to place her back in her bed; not wanting to let go of her father, she whimpered and clung to his shirt. He couldn't quite bear to pry her away, but she needed to rest; looking at the clock (it was nearly midnight now), he determined a compromise. He'd walk about with her in his arms for a little more, and then he'd take her temperature and put her to bed. Till nodded to himself and turned, leaving the room, careful not to jostle her around again.

But even though he'd started off to calm himself down, he could barely look at Nele in her state because it simply hurt too much. Every single time her chest seemed to heave in irregular bouts, he found himself peering anxiously into her face, unsure what to expect and feeling constantly afraid. Till hated feeling like this - he was twenty-two years old, still young and with much to see and sorrow for, but this was entirely too much. Face to face with his daughter, so completely helpless in his arms, he couldn't help but think of his own father and wondered if he had ever felt this way himself. Had his father smiled at him as a child? Had his father helped out with changing him, attended to his various infant whims, and had he held him whenever he'd been the slightest bit injured as a child?

Till didn't remember that far back, and anything from the age of five onwards he didn't _care_ much to remember. He had always been rather disappointed in his own father, enduring his abusive tendencies as a child; they weren't so completely estranged for nothing. He'd always been so determined to not disappoint his children in the same way if he ever ended up having any, but now-

Nele squirmed a little in his arms and he realized that he had been holding her a little too tightly. But she hadn't cried or fussed otherwise, and relaxed when he loosened his grip slightly. A brave girl. He sighed and shook his head, searching for a distraction - at such late hours of the night and with him so exhausted, morbid thoughts weren't going to help him in the slightest. He looked outside the window, out onto the expanse of dull gray flats much like his own, his breath misting the glass - it was so dark outside. Not even the streetlight outside was working anymore. It was a clouded night sky, the thinnest milky sliver of moonlight visible behind them.

He hoped that it wouldn't rain through the day. Carrying raw materials for his carpenting job would be difficult if it were to rain; one couldn't carve anything out of wet wood, and that meant less money. Thinking of this depressed him and simultaneously reminded him that it was getting colder in the flat. His girl was shivering in his arms and he didn't know if this was because of the chill or because of her condition. Paying no mind to the extra bill that he'd have to consider later, he turned up the heat a little more. What was a bit more work from his part when he had Nele to think of?

"Growing up will be hard, Nele," he whispered quietly to her, standing by the window. She couldn't answer him yet, of course, but he rather fancied that she was listening and understanding completely. "this is a difficult world you were born into, my darling, and as your father I can't make promises to you that I know will fall apart. Sad as it might be, there is no sense in promising you that you'll _never_ be hurt, or ill, or heartbroken - I want nothing but happiness for you, but it doesn't come easily."

"But I promise you this. Wherever you go, and however old you might become, you will always be my daughter. I promise you that every bad thing you go through in life will only be temporary. I promise that I'll be close to you until my body rusts and I can't go on anymore. And days will come when it won't seem like it, but I promise to be always on your side, Nele."

Till stopped there and bent down, sealing his promises with a kiss to her forehead. She cooed again; and quite suddenly she smiled at him, ever so faintly, before her eyes slid shut and her breathing slowed to a more comfortable rhythm. The clouds had moved away by this time, the moonlight shining through the window and streaking across the room, illuminating his daughter's face with a pale milky hue - he quietly nuzzled her forehead and moved back towards the room with only a glance back at the window. Now she was properly asleep, and he could probably catch himself a little sleep too.

As he laid her down on the crib he pondered whether he should turn off the record, which was still playing in the living room. But almost immediately he rejected that thought - he felt much too heavy to go back and turn it off - and sat down on the chair, leaning back and exhaling a quiet breath.

" _So liebe kleine Kin-der-lein_..."

Papageno and Papagena. Two lovers, wanting to be parents, wanting children, singing of their love for each other. Till admittedly didn't know what to make of it in the context of his current situation, it was at the same time beautiful and a tad too cheerful for his liking. It was also hitting a little too close to home, and he suddenly felt another surge of fear and sorrow welling up inside him and had to hastily dab away a tear.

" _Wenn viele, viele_!"

Too happy. Much too idealistic. But Nele was sleeping now, soothed by the mingled soprano and tenor carrying out their happy ending, and that made him smile. She had to live in a world of love and care, after all. He would do everything in his power to make that happen, so that she would not know the kind of empty abandonment that he had felt, so that her life would be full of sunshine. Keeping Nele's smile in his mind, he lay his head on the back of the chair. Perhaps he'd manage about three hours this time.

 _"Papageno, Papageno..."_ the record played on as Till closed his weary eyes, the words being engraved into a deep part of his mind forever. _"der Eltern Sor-gen wer-dern sein!"_

_Love._

_Please get better soon._

_"Der Eltern Sor-gen wer-den sein!"_

\---------------------------

** Liberis Meis Vivo - From Richard to Khira Li **

For Richard, there was no wake-up call quite like having to rush to a friend's flat at twenty to two in the morning during his first year of being a father. His month-old daughter, Khira Li, was on his lap and coughing as he drove; he was aware that he didn't even have a seatbelt on, and that he wasn't watching his speed because he was so utterly blinded by panic. It was a good thing that Till lived only five minutes away by car, but even this was setting an utterly terrible example. When he got to a red light he made sure to put his seatbelt on and took a deep breath or two, trying to calm himself down, but it wasn't doing anything when his daughter was coughing and shivering right in front of him.

He really had no idea what to do. Till probably would. He'd been bringing up his own daughter, pretty much by himself, for the past seven years. If he didn't know what to do - well, that was too much of a terrible possibility to think about so he pushed it out of his mind. He parked his small car outside the flat, slammed the door shut, held Khira Li fast against his chest and hurtled up the stairs.

"Till!" he knocked hard on the door, not caring about the noise that he was making. "Till! It's me!"

The door opened just as Richard was raising his fist to knock even harder; Till stood behind it, looking alert as ever, having been on standby since he'd received the younger man's call. Seeing this, Richard suddenly felt immensely awkward - he hadn't actually seen Till very much around in the past few months apart from First Arsch sessions. Expecting a child with the woman who had once been married to the man was a very good reason for that. Even though they hadn't stayed together and he'd taken full responsibility, it was nevertheless an uncomfortable situation for him and doubtless Till.

At least he thought that anyway. Till hadn't ever shown much reaction towards the whole thing, except for a shrug and a statement that he didn't bear any ill will. But Richard knew he wouldn't be able to just leave it at that if it were him and this made him uneasy.

"You sounded very urgent on the phone. What's happened?"

"Khira Li," Richard whispered. "she's gotten a fever overnight. It won't subside and her body feels like it's burning. I don't know what to do, Till. I... I don't really know how to deal with things like this, it's just... I've never..."

 _'Well, that's your own fault for having a child with my ex-wife_ ,' is what he'd expected Till to say. And although he would have punched the man in the face for saying such a thing, guilt and a massive sense of discomfort had settled in him at the thought, and he doubted that punching Till would solve any problems of that vein. He did not need to do any of those things, however; Till leaned in, merely looking at the baby, biting his lip slightly.

"Come in and we'll watch over her through the night. Is that," the older man raised his head to meet Richard's eyes, suddenly sounding a little unsure. "is that... okay for you?"

"Please," Richard replied. There was some unease in his mind that Khira Li was being cared for in Till's home, he was rightfully a little perturbed, but he was just so sick with worry that he didn't protest as they were both ushered in. Till nodded for him to sit down first on the couch and he obliged, still holding his daughter in his arms, not entirely sure what he was doing and what was going to happen next. He was shaken out of his thoughts as Till set down a hot cup of coffee in front of him and sat down.

"Drink this. You're shaking. You look like you need it," Richard nodded numbly and reached to take the cup. "here. Let me take Khira Li."

"No-" the younger man replied without thought before logic set in; he couldn't drink hot liquids with his daughter on his lap, what was he thinking? Feeling terribly embarrassed, he hung his head and reluctantly handed over Khira Li to Till before taking up the coffee, but he could barely concentrate in drinking any of it when he was too busy watching the two of them. "what's... what's wrong with her?"

Till felt her forehead; she was breathing shallowly and snuffling, letting out tiny coughs now and then, and she was indeed quite feverish. All standard symptoms of what seemed like common cold, and sadly there wasn't much they could do but to wait it out. If other symptoms developed, they could take it from there, but if it was just a chill - as Till suspected - then there weren't really many options. "There's a cold going around, Nele's got it too. Khira Li might just be suffering from it. Her immune system's still developing after all."

"Is there nothing we can do?"

"She's a month old?" Richard nodded. "too young for any medication, definitely, and it'd be another month before she can start vaccinations. She'll just need to bear it, Richard. I know it's hard to hear but at least she won't suffer from it again for quite a while."

"But I don't want her to suffer from _anything_ ," the younger man said, nearly in tears and almost spilling some coffee in his distress. "did Nele go through this when she was little, too? Look at her, she's burning, it can't be normal-"

Till stood up, dusting his knees. "Calm down, _bitte_ ," he said quietly. "we can't wake her. When Nele was ill I'd cool her down with a washcloth and make sure she was well hydrated. At a month old that's really the best bet."

"Do you think putting her in less layers will help?"

"Her body temperature might plummet. It might be worse for her."

The younger man hung his head, closing his eyes and despairing at just how much he didn't know. "... Okay. Let's do that."

\-----

Khira Li's breathing had eased a little, but she was still coughing now and then and Richard had to keep patting her on the back. Till had come up with a simple solution of sugar and water that they let the baby sip from a bottle; he'd said that the sweetness would temporarily calm her, and indeed this seemed to work. The younger man was frantically taking note of all of this, keeping them all in mind - there were things that only experience could teach, after all, and this was one of them. Admittedly, he'd been feeling rather discouraged for the entire month he'd been looking after his daughter, and there was a heavy lack of confidence on his part when it came to being a father in general. If this was just the first month, what of the other months and years to come? It seemed almost bleak, especially when he felt so uncertain about himself.

"Nele?" Till's bewildered voice shook him out of his rather depressing thoughts and made him look up. A girl of about seven or eight stood by the doorway, wearing a white nightdress, her hair tangled a little as if she'd just gotten out of bed. Which, considering the time, was definitely the case. "what are you doing so early in the morning?"

The girl blinked at them before walking over and peering in close. "I wanted a drink," she said in a voice slightly hoarse and roughened with cold. " _Hallo, Onkel_."

Richard nodded in response; normally he'd have smiled and greeted her cheerfully, but he was feeling a little too miserable for it now. This wasn't how he'd expected Nele's first meeting with Khira Li to go at all. Till answered for him: "Khira Li is here, she's just a little poorly. Would you like to see her?"

" _Nein_ ," Nele coughed, and actually backed away. "can't now. I'm ill too, _Vatti_."

"Oh," Till said, no doubt a bit nervous at exposing her to Khira Li so quickly. There was too much to consider right now, and Richard, watching on anxiously, inwardly agreed. "oh, of course..." But then Nele said something that completely changed this perception with only a few words, and they were both left utterly stunned.

" _Halbschwester_ ," she whispered hoarsely through a few coughs, stopping both men in their tracks. "she's just a baby. Sick too. I can't add to it. Needs to get better," Nele then reached up on tiptoes and gave her father a little kiss on the cheek, backing away again quickly. " _bis Morgen, Vatti, habe dich lieb. Bis Morgen, Onkel Rick_."

Without another word, she nodded and withdrew back into her bedroom. Her maturity surprised them both; Nele had just simply gone and accepted a concept Richard (at least) was having some trouble fully committing himself to, and hadn't even batted an eye. Children truly were enigmatic at times with their innocent, sometimes brutal honesty, but right now he was just grateful that Till's daughter at least didn't mind Khira Li's presence in the slightest and was even taking some unofficial responsibility as a half-sister.

"You brought her up well," he said quietly, making Till look at him. "you must be proud."

 _And how I envy your ability to have done that on your own_ , he added silently to himself. The older man nodded, nothing but pride and affection for his daughter in his eyes, before he looked at the time. Way too late for either of them to be up when they both had work to do in the morning.

"You should lie down and take a long rest. You can have the bed for tonight, Richard, I'll sleep on the couch."

"I want to stay next to Khira Li. She can't sleep alone, I have to watch over her."

Till blinked at this before giving the younger man an incredulous look. "How on earth did you go about catching some sleep before, then?"

Richard didn't respond for a long time, gazing down at his daughter's face, before he looked up and let his weary expression answer for him. He'd obviously not been sleeping in anything resembling a regular schedule, too busy trying to take care of her - it must have been difficult for him even when she was otherwise healthy, and tonight had just been the final straw. At least when Nele had been a month old, Till hadn't been completely alone, and the thought stirred an intense sense of empathy in the older man's heart. Without a word Till held out his hand, inviting the other man to follow - Richard hesitated and grasped his hand somewhat awkwardly, letting him lead he and Khira Li into the main bedroom. "She can sleep next to you, Richard."

"But I can't! What if I roll over in my sleep or something, and..."

"You won't," Till said firmly, and his tone was so completely final that the younger man didn't dare argue. He laid down on the bed, feeling nervous, and took Khira Li as she was handed to him, carefully placing her by the side of the bed that was pressed against the wall so she'd have less chance of falling off. After that, he backed away cautiously so that he was nearly balanced precariously by the edge, too frightened by the prospect of crushing her accidently and not wanting to take any chances. Till watched him, and although he didn't say anything, he still reached down to lightly touch the other's shoulder reassuringly. "but you're worried, aren't you?"

The younger man tensed at the touch, but glanced back at his friend, eventually giving him a somewhat miserable nod. "I've been sleeping in fits and starts," he confessed. "I'm going through the motions, but it's just so new and I didn't think it'd be so exhausting... oh God, that's terrible, I shouldn't say things like this..."

Till's gaze softened considerably at this; he sat down on the edge of the bed, taking care not to shift the mattress around too much. "It's the natural thing, Richard," he said quietly. "I felt like that when Nele was Khira Li's age. You haven't been doing this for a very long time, it's understandable that you're tired and unsure of what to do. But there's no shame in that," a hesitant pause. "I do wish... you'd have come earlier, though. I could have helped out for other things if you found them difficult."

"I know, it's... well..."

A knowing silence fell between them. Richard knew the older man was thinking the same thing as he, that the situation was not something that either of them were completely relaxed about at this particular point in time; but then Till squeezed his shoulder in such a completely reassuring way that he couldn't help but turn his entire body around to meet the other's gaze properly. "I want you to know that I really have no hard feelings about this," he said quietly, looked over to the other side of the bed, and smiled. "I would have, perhaps, if you'd been too afraid to seek help when you needed it. But you're a good man, Richard, and you take care of your daughter - what more can one ask for?"

"... Thank you, Till. Really."

"Don't mention it. Now please do go to sleep. _Gute Nacht_."

\-----

It had felt as if sleep would never come to him, but once Till had left, the younger man had spiraled into a deep, restful sleep almost immediately. Richard awoke the next morning, lying on his back, to see sunlight shining on his face and Till standing next to the bed with a smile. Before he could ask what was going on, he placed an index finger to his lips and nodded, gesturing him to be quiet and just look to his right. What he saw made his heart leap in joy and disbelief - Khira Li was cuddled up to him, nestled by his side, and somehow in his sleep he had shifted to curl his arm around her form protectively. She was sleeping fitfully, her breathing even and calm; she still snuffled every now and then, but it was nowhere near as bad as before.

"I told you," the older man said softly as Richard began to smile, tears glistening in his eyes as he saw Khira Li cradled in his arms. "it's the natural thing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The Promise:** This was heavily inspired by Till's poem 'Drei Wochen Liegt Sie Ohne Regung' that I translated recently. I haven't put it up on the blog yet because I've also found another translation for it that isn't... well, quite as heartwarming. Getting my head sorted first. This is set around the mid-1980s when Nele was born. Till was indeed twenty-two when she was born and he was mostly a single father - God knows how he managed. It's one of the vulnerable sides of Till that I enjoy writing. 'Die Zauberflote' (The Magic Flute) being played is indeed mentioned in the poem itself and if it was about Nele, I fancy that this was the section that was playing; I used to sing a bit of opera and Lieder so I'm quite familiar with it. This is the 'Papageno-Papagena' duet towards the end of the opera that goes roughly like 'What joy will it be/ if the Gods think of us/ and give us children of our love.../ if such dear little children..../ Be in the care of their parents...'. Very sweet and beautiful.
> 
>  **Liberis Meis Vivo:** Latin for 'For My Children I Live'. I see Papa!Richard as the kind of father who's never quite sure if he's being a good father, ever. There's also the bit of an elephant in the room situation with Khira Li and Nele being half sisters, technically, that nobody seemed to explore. I wanted to get into that, really. I'm an idealist when it comes to realistic Rammstein, though, so things turned out okay in this one - and in real life too, there are photos of Khira Li and Nele together just chilling. Kinda refreshing to get back to vulnerable!Richard again after nearly a month of no see from him.


	2. Two Fathers and Two Daughters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not know any of the members of Rammstein nor members of their family, this is strictly a work of fiction and I do not profit nor claim to represent true aspects of their lives in this story.**

**Liebes Kind, Lieber Vater (Part 2) - A Rammstein Fanfiction**

\--------------------------------------

** Mirror Image - Richard and Nele **

_It doesn't matter. I really didn't think it was necessary, Risch, and quite frankly I'm alarmed that you thought this was a good idea._

Richard sighed and ran his hand through his silver hair, tousling it lightly from its slicked back position. His hairstyle was loosened now but for once he really didn't care as he tapped his fingernails against the steering wheel - he had much more serious things to think about.

_What if she ended up injured from that height? And the song itself! I know we wrote it together, but she's only five and having her there was just -_

He switched the indicator lights to left. He didn't really want to be doing this, but this was something that he absolutely needed to talk over with Till - really clarify his position on - because after three days of awkward silence it was just getting to be too much. They'd just done their first fully-filmed concert in Berlin that was to be released on video soon, and he really wasn't about to let any editing take place until all of this was straightened out.

He owed it to Till. He owed it to his daughter.

_Terrible thing to do. It shouldn't happen again._

"I _know_ , Till, Jesus Christ," he moaned as his car slid into the relatively-empty parking lot; he turned off the engine and leaned forwards, pressing his forehead onto the steering wheel. "make me feel even worse of a father..."

It occurred to him that he hadn't actually called Till to check if it was okay for him to come over; but as he stared at the apartment building, Richard knew that it wouldn't matter that much. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon, and he knew for a fact that nothing of much importance had been scheduled in any of their timetables that day. Till was probably in, and even if he weren't, Richard would stay in the area until he came back. He'd even wait out in the car if he had to. Making his way up the now-familiar set of stairs, he swallowed the dread rising within him and knocked on the door. "Till? This is Risch... I'm sorry to bother you, but could I come in for a bit?"

The door opened with a slight creak, and quite suddenly Richard found himself staring down at a girl with long blonde hair wearing flared jeans and a striped shirt. She gazed at him calmly for the entirety of five seconds before tilting her head a little to the side with a questioning look in her eyes. " _Guten Tag, Onkel Rick."_

" _Hallo,_ Nele. Is Till home?"

The girl shook her head, but stepped aside, inviting him in with a gesture of her arm. "He went to do some shopping. You missed him by ten minutes."

"Will he be back soon?"

"Within an hour, he said. Come in. I think he'd be happy to see you."

 _I doubt that_ , he nearly said aloud, but kept silent in the end and followed Nele inside, letting her take his jacket and hang it neatly on the clothes rack under her insistence.

\-----

"Please take a seat. Coffee or tea, _Onkel_?"

"A cup of coffee would be nice, darling," when Nele didn't move, Richard realized that she was waiting for more details on how exactly he wanted his coffee. "two sugars but no milk, if it won't be any trouble..."

"Two-sugars-and-no-milk," she repeated, and then she turned away towards the kitchen with an acknowledging nod. Nele hadn't pursued anything particularly musical after her father (a trait that Till himself encouraged, he was against restricting Nele to a specific field of interest at such a young age), but she had inherited his gift for words and his appreciation for poetry. She also had a way of intoning phrases in a curiously melodic way that Richard had always found extremely fascinating; she only showed it when repeating things of particular interest or studying, but it was probably a joy for Till to observe in their daily lives. Nele was remarkably independent and responsible even at a young age, having been used to a single-parent household for most of her life, and from what Richard knew she was almost no trouble. It was as if she already knew how to live by her own rhythm and pace, and the guitarist truly admired her for it, along with admiring Till for bringing her up that way.

If only he could do something similar. He'd continuously been assured that he was doing well, but the closest figure he could compare himself to was Till, who had started fatherhood a whole seven years before him and knew far more than he. The thought made him feel even more down than before, so to distract himself he leaned back on the sofa and watched the fish tank that stood by the window - Till kept two fantail goldfish as pets, fairly docile and hardy creatures that were quite entertaining to watch as they bustled back and forth in their little aquarium. One paused, facing towards him, its long tail drifting behind it - and out of impulse, Richard reached out and tapped on the glass ever so slightly, letting out a quiet chuckle as the startled fish darted away.

"It's bad for them," Nele's voice said from behind him, and he turned around. She was setting down a tray with a dish of biscuits and two cups of coffee, sparing him and the fish tank only a little glance. "you shouldn't scare them so. They're not doing anything."

She was right; but there was something so heavily severe about her voice that both amused and humbled Richard. "You're right," he said as he took up the cup of coffee, sipping at it delicately. "a childhood habit and a terrible one, I would say."

Nele sat down opposite him and gave him one of her deep looks before taking up the other cup. Richard couldn't help but notice that she was drinking what appeared to be very strong black coffee, something that he couldn't quite imagine would do a girl of her age a lot of good. "Aren't you too young to be drinking coffee, Nele?"

"Hardly, _Onkel Rick_ , I'm thirteen years old," she said primly, sipping daintily from her cup with her little finger sticking out (just like the way Till did sometimes, he noted). " _Vatti_ and I occasionally have a glass of wine together too, it's not a big deal."

"How old were you when he first let you drink alcohol?"

A shrug. "I was probably around six? I didn't like it then and he didn't make me drink any more than that sip. But I think it's okay now. It's more - refined. _Adult_."

The coffee was strong and rich, just the way he liked it, and yet full of its bittersweet, difficult-to-preserve flavor that he loved so much. Nele was quite clearly aware of how to make a good cup of coffee and was rather skilled at it too. "Being an adult isn't everything, love. It's really not a lot of fun. Full of responsibilities, hard times and bitter coffee."

"I know, but it can't be worse than being thirteen," she sighed. "I can't wait to be a grown-up. At least I can drink coffee like one, I suppose... and if bitter coffee's the way it is, then that's what I'll need to drink."

But when she left to check the stove after more chatter, the guitarist reached out and picked up her cup, swirling the remaining liquid around. What he saw made him smile and laugh a little; what seemed to be the unmelted remains of several teaspoonfuls of sugar rested on the bottom of the cup. _Just as I thought. A sweet-toothed girl. Takes after her father._

\-----

"So what brings you here, _Onkel_?"

"I wanted to discuss our Berlin performance. The one that was filmed. And it's about Khira Li too," Nele sat up a little straighter at this, alert at the mention of her half-sister. "because she asked me a favour just before the performance."

"Fa-vour?" she was doing it again, drawing out the syllables in that pretty way of hers.

"She wanted to watch me perform. I suggested - admittedly fairly late into the arrangements - that she be part of the performance in some way, and the crew loved the idea as did she. Looking back on it, though... and considering how Till reacted when he found out... I don't think I should have gone with it. That's really what I wanted to discuss with him."

"What was wrong about it?"

"Nothing! Khira Li was perfectly fine with it and she certainly didn't get injured by anything. But the idea came in quite late as it was and by the time Till knew about it, she was confirmed to be taking part in the performance and it was too late to change it," Nele nodded, silently telling him to continue. The guitarist assumed that she wanted actual details of the performance, and even though he was now balking a little at the implications, he wanted to be honest. "as for her appearance... it was during 'Tier'. I think that's what bothered Till the most. It wasn't a number with a lot of pyrotechnics, for one - I think I got a little too carried away with the shock value of it..."

The girl narrowed her eyes, staring at him intently. "That's the song about the father and daughter?" he nodded. She technically hadn't started off old enough (and arguably still wasn't) to be able to listen to their songs, but due to obvious reasons she couldn't avoid doing so. "I thought so. Granted, it's hardly _Vatti'_ s worst, but... well. And she was happy with it?"

"She's only five. I don't think she understood the meaning of the song. But it's gone on film... what if she sees it and she's disgusted? It wasn't until I was really on the stage that what I'd done really sunk in..."

"Tell me, _Onkel_ , how often do you see Khira Li?"

Richard blinked. This wasn't the turn of conversation that he had expected. "Every day... when I go to rehearsals I get a sitter for her, and during tours as well. But I guess recently I haven't been around very much."

"She misses you, right?"

It was times like this that made the guitarist terribly unsure of what to make of Nele. He felt as if he were being interrogated. Nele had always been quite an enigma, much like her own father, to Richard. She was growing up in a perfectly well-adjusted and normal manner as far as he could see, which was nothing but good, but it was evident that she had inherited a lot of what made Till so special. Her eyes weren't quite the same shape as Till's but they were the exact same mesmerizing shade of green, for one, and she'd also adopted a similar brooding expression to her father's own. "Of course... Khira Li misses me a lot."

The girl raised one slender eyebrow. "And you don't?"

She'd also been handed down Till's own kind of truly spectacular bluntness. An argument between her and Till would be worth seeing, with their mutual caustic tendencies. "That's not it," he explained, feeling a strange mixture between hurt and guilt at being asked such a thing. "that's not it at all, Nele. I'm her father, there's not a single second where I don't worry about her. Even during the performance I could barely concentrate on playing my part because I kept looking back at her - all alone, looking down at me with only the most minimal of supports - and I just thought to myself, _what have I done_?" he was talking faster and sounding more distressed at this point, but he'd started something and now he had to finish it. Nele simply looked at him with the same passive expression. "it wasn't even _me_ who got distracted first, Nele. It was Till, he kept on looking towards the back even as he was singing, he was tense. He felt bad about it before I should have done, and it was just... I love Khira Li, I want her to be happy, but this wasn't the way it should have gone. I feel absolutely terrible about this... do you... do you understand what I mean?"

Silence. Nele didn't even nod or shake her head to indicate her answer. Richard was beginning to fidget and nervously brush back his hair when she spoke up again. "What was the first thing you did after the concert?"

"I ran backstage and checked on Khira Li. She was just waiting there with a book on her lap, smiling as she saw me... I got changed quickly and left straight away with her. No harm done, she was happy then and has been ever since..."

"And _Vatti_ confronted you on this?"

"He called the day after."

She stood up quite suddenly, making Richard blink and shift nervously in his seat. "... Yes?"

"I need to feed the fish," she said calmly, and proceeded to go over to the fish tank and do exactly that. The fishes swam up to the surface, mouthing for the flakes of food that Nele sprinkled onto the water. Richard gazed at their gold-speckled bodies swimming in the water, scales glistening in the sunlight, and sat there attempting to gather his thoughts together.

He'd often felt rather conscious of the fact that that Khira Li possessed the last name of Lindemann - after her and Nele's mother, really - and he worried that this meant that she belonged more to Till than anyone else. He certainly seemed to know more about how to care for her than Richard himself did. Even though this was primarily just his more experienced paternal self showing through, it wasn't too hard to make a connection of this sort with all those factors in mind. He wasn't sure what that Nele, genuinely being Till's daughter, thought of the entire situation even now - and this simply made him more nervous. Richard had just spilled out a lot of his thoughts to her, thoughts that he probably wouldn't have let onto Till for anything - was she old enough to really understand, and if she did, would she think of him any worse for what he had let on?

" _Mutti_ should come around tomorrow," Nele said, breaking him out of his chain of thoughts, as she closed the lid on the tank; she dusted the flakes off her palms and replaced the tin of fish food back on the side table. "would you like me to tell her how Khira Li's been coming along?"

"That would be nice," Richard answered, and then paused. "Nele... about your mother... she's a good mother to you, yes? Her and Till are on perfectly friendly terms?"

"I do like her," Nele said, nodding politely in Richard's direction. "she looks after me during the times he's away. And yes - well, I wouldn't call it 'perfectly friendly', but I've never seen them argue about anything. They get along perfectly well. But... well..." here the mature facade dropped a little as she blushed, shy to admit to such a thing at her preteen age. "... she's not like _Vatti_ , you know? It's not as if I get too lonely or anything," she said hastily, but the guitarist sensed otherwise. "I do okay by myself too. So there's nothing to worry about."

"But he's always returning home quickly as possible to look after you, Nele. I've seen him amend bookings and skip out on parties, and rightfully so - Till is the furthest from neglectful, isn't he?"

To this Nele didn't offer any reply, but simply stood up and beckoned for Richard to follow her into the kitchen. He did so and was greeted with a sight that was both touching and terribly sad, and entirely unexpected; she had pointed to the fridge door, which had two or three dozen round magnets holding up various notes from both Till and Nele littering its surface. They were addressed to each other, and from sheer amount alone Richard could deduce that these correspondences had built up over a long period of time - just how long though, he couldn't even begin to comprehend. "May I?" he asked quietly - receiving a nod in response, he reached out and took one down.

 _Gone out to meet Flake, will be back after midnight. There's some Buletten in the fridge. Liebe, Vatti._ This one was dated to Tuesday, two weeks before, scribbled in Till's elegant handwriting. Beneath it (just a day later) Nele had written: _We are going shopping. We'll be back by three o'clock, getting some Kirschtorte for you._

"By the time we came back he'd left another note."

_Preparing for our concert next week, rehearsals abound. I hope you and Mutti had fun. Will you be okay having dinner with her? Sorry to leave you for so long, love._

Neither Nele nor her mother had responded to that one. The next little note read: _Thank you for the Kirschtorte. It was delicious. Next time we'll go together._

"Is this how you and Till communicate most of the time?" Richard asked, and received a silent, sad nod in return. Somehow it made it worse for the guitarist to watch this because he remembered the very rehearsal that was being talked about in the note - Till had looked so normal and upbeat that evening, none of them had really given a thought to his daughter who had doubtless been waiting all night-

"It's not that he's _neglectful_ ," she spoke up, sounding hesitant. "and he does always come back home after practice - but it just always seems to be timed so that we don't really get to see each other much, even though we occupy the same house. When I'm back from school he's usually too tired or working, and I only have enough time to brew him a coffee or give him a little knee massage before he has to go. And when he comes back, or when he's feeling more awake, chances are that I'm asleep by then."

"He's the best father I could ask for and I try to be the best daughter that he could ever want. But I do wish... we'd talk more often. He knows everything that goes on at school and I know everything he wants to tell me about how the band's going, but-" she gestured towards the notes. "-there's only so much writing can do for both of us. It's not his fault, though. It's not anyone's fault. Just... just circumstances."

True. But there was something profoundly sorrowful about the irony that while Till sang his heart out to an audience of thousands many nights in a row, those periods meant that Nele, the person who was closest to him, would go without hearing his voice for days at a time. "Do you ever wish you could accompany him on rehearsals and tours, Nele?"

"Sometimes," she admitted as she leaned against the wall - her tone had taken on a slightly melancholy edge and she was fiddling a little with her thumb ring as she gazed in Richard's direction without really seeing him. "even as part of a crowd, if I can't come with him backstage. But really, I don't think I'd be able to handle it if I jumped into the scene now. I'm thirteen already, I need to concentrate on schoolwork, and I... well, I find it a bit strange to have photographers and people who don't know me come up to us in public, because it really wasn't very long ago that he and I could just go shopping together without being recognized by anyone. But I think Khira Li's lucky, _Onkel Rick_. She's growing up while you're all involved with Rammstein."

"You think that's good?"

Nele nodded. "She wanted to take part, right? I think that she was completely happy to be a part of the performance with you, and I doubt she'll change her mind even when she sees the film in a few years' time. Not like me. I used to be just Nele to my friends, living quietly with my _Vatti_ in a flat in Berlin, and that's how it was even when I started school. But now I'm Nele _Lindemann_... and... well..." she sighed a little, her eyes darkening. "... I don't blame my previous friends, I guess it wasn't in their best interests to try to connect who I used to be with who I am now..."

There was a heavy silence after that. Richard replaced the note on the fridge door and walked back to the living room, sitting back down and leaning forwards in deep thought; he'd never really thought about it that way, that perhaps the sudden fame Rammstein had gained had significantly changed the way Nele's childhood friends had perceived her. It must have been a harsh realization for the girl to discover that she was, indeed, not just a normal girl named Nele but rather a stranger who was simply 'the daughter of Till Lindemann'. A strange title that none of her friends nor her own self had given thought to until her father became the lead singer of Rammstein. Living in a changed world and a changed atmosphere, Nele must have been swamped with people who had never noticed her suddenly being entirely too interested in her (or Till's) fame while her childhood friends, who were all as quiet and thoughtful as her, drifted away to seek others. But Nele throughout it all had always remained Nele, the intelligent, mature aloof girl of thirteen who made deadpan observations regarding her father's rather questionable lyrics - Richard thought of how jarring it must have been for her, and fully sympathized.

At least with Khira Li, being still in kindergarten, that wouldn't happen. She had already been integrated somewhat into the Rammstein lifestyle, and ideally that was the way it would be from the beginning so that she wouldn't go through such turmoil. With that in mind, Richard suddenly felt rather liberated thinking about the Berlin performance and the way Khira Li had smiled serenely down at him from her position from above the stage - she had enjoyed it, she had been safe, and he'd given her exactly what she had needed and wanted. When he raised his head, he found that Nele had also entered the room and was now standing in front of him with a serious look on her face.

"You look after Khira Li," she told him, her steely green eyes fixing upon his. "look after my half-sister, _Onkel_. It’d be silly to promise that you'll do her every bidding, but you'll always be on her side and you'll support her, right? She deserves it. _Ja_?"

Richard was inwardly stunned at her resolute stare, but he was more impressed and determined than anything. "I will," he said quietly. "and I always have. I promise, Nele. To Khira Li, you, Till, and myself." Nele's bluntness had restored his confidence somehow - and really, looking at her, he could have sworn that she was almost a younger Till in the flesh. Nele and Till were mirror images, father and daughter, balancing each other out ever so perfectly. Perhaps, not too far in the future, he and his daughter could achieve something similar.

They gazed at each other in silence for a few more seconds, then the phone rang; Nele only then looked away and picked up the receiver. " _Vatti_?" she asked into the phone, skipping all greetings. Richard looked anxiously in her direction; what if Till noticed that her voice had a subtle off-colored tone to it? Nele was certainly not sounding her usual self. " _nein_ , I'm okay... _Onkel Rick_ is here, he's waiting for you... what was that?" her face brightened a little. " _ja... ja,_ I do... he's been lovely... mmhmm... okay. Ten-min-utes... _Was_?! No, no, don't be silly, _Vatti_!"

"What was he saying?" Richard inquired as the girl hung up right there and then, blushing furiously.

"He... _hmmph_."

Now he was trying to hold back his smile and aware that he wasn't doing a great job of it. "Come on, what'd he say, Nele darling?"

"... He said that he'd give me a hug and kiss when he came back... and could I give you a hug from him as well?"

Richard could have responded in a variety of ways. He could have expressed his relief at finding Till to be still fond of him to Nele, he could have made some comment about 'what a softie he could be, really' - but this was not a situation where a lot of words were needed and he knew to save her embarrassment. So he simply smiled and held out his arms, letting Nele walk forward and wrap her arms around him. Her hug was awkward in the way that only preteen girls could demonstrate, and she was at an awkward height that meant that she didn't even quite come up to his chest. But nevertheless it was a nice hug, one that reminded him that he was effectively honorary uncle to Nele, and he felt a surge of fatherly affection for her that he had so far only felt with his own daughter - if this was what Till felt every time he interacted with Khira Li, then surely he and Richard were not so far apart mentally that they couldn't reach an understanding over what had happened. Things would work out.

"I'll... I'll leave you and _Vatti_ be now..." she mumbled as she pulled away, blushing even redder than before. "if he comes in and asks for me, tell him I'm doing my homework, _ja_?"

"All right, sweetheart," he chuckled, and got up to place his coffee cup in the sink, giving her an affectionate pat on the head. "but are you sure you don't want to give your father a hug and kiss before you get to it?"

"Give me a break! And don't - don't you _dare_ tell him I told you all of this!" Nele called haughtily from her room, and Richard had to laugh as he dodged a cushion that she'd tossed in his direction. She was still a young girl after all. It was good to see her acting like one.

\------

** With Regards to Goethe - Till and Khira Li **

"... Let's try it now. _Eins... zwei... drei_!"

The young girl took a nervous breath and started singing into the vocoder on cue, her blue eyes flickering nervously around the room. " _Hoppe, Hoppe, Reiter_..."

The tall singer standing next to her gave her a small encouraging smile before he sang his line, keeping perfectly to the music. " _Und kein Engel steigt herab_ -"

" _Mein Herz schlaegt nicht mehr weiter_..."

 _"-Nur der Regen weint am Grab_!"

He was a thirty-eight year old man with a strong imposing stature and she was just a small, lithe young girl of eight, old enough to be his daughter. Although she wasn't, her name _was_ Khira Li Lindemann and she was very close to him nonetheless. It was a very mismatched sight to see them singing together like this, when she had to be propped up to reach the vocoder. But their voices sounded surprisingly good together, a childlike, vaguely distorted soprano mixing with his harsh bass-baritone - though she still couldn't quite get used to how strange it felt to hear her own voice through a vocoder. When the verse was finished, they stopped recording as Paul gave them both a thumbs-up and a grin.

"Good work, Khira Li," he said as he gently ruffled her hair. "and the same to you, Till. I think we've got it first time around."

Till nodded approvingly, sitting down and brushing back a lock of his hair. "No other takes then, I assume? I've no desire to work Khira Li any more than necessary."

"None of us do. We'll use this take, it's wonderful enough as it is," Paul said as he dismantled the vocoder and took it to the next room. Flake, who'd been overseeing the recording along with providing some extra effects on his keyboard, also leaned back with a quiet, satisfied look on his face. The girl quietly watched the scene unfold in front of her, taking every little detail in; she was no stranger to any of the band members, and was certainly held in much affection by all of them (much to Richard's concern that this might spoil her temperament). The keyboardist caught her eye and smiled gently at her.

"Did you like this song? Till's voice wasn't too low or harsh for you?"

The girl nodded as she stepped down. "I do! Uncle Till sounded wonderful - and it wasn't scary at all, _Vatti_ sounds much scarier! I don't know if my friends would like it, though."

The keyboardist looked at her with an amused and slightly apologetic look in his face as he took off his glasses and rubbed at them with a cloth, his every movement slow and thoughtful. "It'll be quite a long time before anything on this album would be considered safe for your friends' ears! I'm sorry about that, Khira Li. You can blame your Uncle Till for being so morbid all the time."

"Hey, I actually put a lot of work into this one! Did you know it's actually impossible to dig yourself out of wet sand?" Till commented aloud as he twisted open a bottle of water and took a large gulp. "buried alive, too. And in an oak coffin! _Nobody_ could survive that even with the oxygen in it. I give it an hour at most."

"Oh my _God_ , Till," Paul shouted from the other room. "that's a lovely thing to say in front of a child."

Khira Li only smiled a little, charmed at the older guitarist's concern. But he needn't have worried; she might have been only eight years old, but being a Rammstein daughter, she was already too familiar with such things. Besides she loved Till almost like a second father, he was wonderfully gentle with her, and often enchanted her with his tales and low, enticing voice. For her, life was beautiful; Richard was around often and was happy, her stepmother often took her out on various little excursions, and sometimes Till would come to take care of her for an evening or so. There was honestly nothing else that she could ever want in such a fulfilling life.

"Tell me a story," Khira Li begged as as she sat down next to Till, leaning her head against his strong shoulder. The singer looked down and smiled fondly at her, putting his water bottle down. " _bitte_? Just for me, uncle?"

"Aren't you too old for stories now, princess?" he laughed as she pouted at him in response.

"Not too old for your stories! I'll never be too old for _those_."

"Well, once upon a time there was a horrible little boy who pathologically sucked his thumbs-"

Khira Li's expression softened at this and she began giggling uproariously, giving the singer a playful slap on the shoulder. "Not anything from _Struwwelpeter_! I've read that so many times! It was bad enough when _Vatti_ first read them to me!"

"Oh, one is _never_ too old to learn from cautionary tales. That book came out a century and half ago, love, doesn't it say _something_ about its ability to teach children to behave that it's still selling?" Till laughed and patted his lap; the girl settled there innocently and giggled even more as she felt the rasp of his stubble on her forehead. "I'll think of something... let's see, now what story can I think of...?"

But he did not have to think for too long. Before either he or Khira Li could speak up again, they both raised their heads at the sudden piano tune that cut through the air; Flake was starting to play a fast-paced song, glancing up at Till and giving him a knowing look. He played for about ten seconds and then paused there, shifting a little to look at them properly. "Recognize this?"

The singer thought for only a second or two before a slow smile appeared on his face. " _Ach_! Flake, you savior, you," he laughed. "that's a good one. I'd nearly forgotten, it was so long ago that I was taught to sing any kind of _Lieder_..."

Khira Li looked down, seeing if she could shift any closer to Till; there was no more room to squeeze in, so she stood up and carefully sat down on the singer's lap instead as she was used to doing whenever he came around to look after her. "What is it, uncle?"

"'Der Erlkönig'. A piece by Schubert written around the same time as _Der Struwwelpeter_ \- it's about a boy and his father. I think you might like that one."

"Do people die in it?" Khira Li questioned innocently, her eyes bright with curiosity, causing both Flake and Till to laugh out loud. The keyboardist in particular seemed to find this very amusing, actually wiping off the tears from the corner of his eyes as he leaned back on his chair, gasping for breath.

"Oh, Khira Li," Till chuckled. "never change, darling."

She tilted her head questioningly. "So people _do_ die in it?"

"Why don't you listen and find out," Flake said gently as he sat properly in front of the keyboard again and positioned his hands over the keys. "ready, Till? Schubert it is."

The man nodded as he straightened his posture a little. "And to Goethe."

Flake immediately started up, his nimble fingers dancing across the keyboard with the utmost grace; Till cleared his throat a little and gave Khira Li a gentle smile before he began to sing, meeting eyes with the keyboardist and keeping in perfect time with the music. She leaned against his chest, gazing up at him with wide eyes as he sang - it was often that he would tell her stories, or talk to her in that soothing voice of his, but it wasn't a common occurrence to have him sing something for her. Lullabies and songs had always been more her father's department when it came to her.

"... _Du lie-bes Kind_ ," here he looked directly into her eyes, a playful smile on his lips. " _komm - geh mit mir_!" Khira Li was drawn into the story, just like that, as Till gently ruffled her hair; it surprised even her how simple it had been as he sang " _gar sch_ _ö_ _ne Spiele spiel' ich mit dir_!" in a tone that she could only really place as soft and surprisingly _high_ , as unfitting as that word sounded.

_"Manch' bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand - Meine Mutter hat manch g_ _ü_ _lden Gewand!"_

Khira Li had always been aware that Till was a very strange man, and combined with this and being around her father she was no stranger to any sort of morbidity anymore. Yet he was always mesmerizing, invoking feelings of fear, amazement and total fascination from her whenever she heard his voice; all feelings that she didn't quite understand yet due to being so young, but embraced nevertheless. It was incredible, how truly versatile Till could be - she was more used to his growling, exaggerated vocals in his input for Rammstein, so this was new for her. His voice drew her in further and further into the story; within seconds he could switch from the high, sinister-sweet voice of the Erlkonig to the frightened desperation of the boy to the reassuring baritone of the father. Once or twice during those rapid transitions she found herself feeling as if she should be joining in, or Flake, but he played the part of all three so well that she knew it was unnecessary.

" _Dem Vater grauset's, er reitet geschwind_ ," Till sung as the music began to rise to a crescendo; Khira Li inhaled sharply, her eyes wide. " _er h_ _ä_ _lt in Armen das_ _ä_ _chzende Kind!"_

"Oh, no!" she gasped. Flake's fingers were still running across the keys, playing a series of beautiful and yet somehow dissonant trills, signaling that Till was nearing the climax of the song. The older man met the keyboard's eyes briefly and nodded.

_"Erreicht den Hof mit M_ _ü_ _h' und Not..."_

Here the music fell almost completely silent and back to a gentle, sweet melody quite unlike what the lyrics were describing.

 _"In seinen Armen das Kind... war_..." Till sang the final word in a near whisper. "... _tot_!"

Flake played the last two notes with intense finality, and then it was all over. It was he who looked up first, giving both Till and Khira Li a little bow as they applauded him for his performance. "One of the finest _Lieder_ ever written," he commented, lightly adjusting his glasses over the bridge of his nose and smiling at them. "and wonderfully interpreted by our dear Herr Lindemann. Wouldn't you agree, Khira Li?"

She didn't quite reply properly, too lost in thinking of the song to offer more than a couple of nods. Flake, understanding this, smiled at her before he walked from behind the keyboard and picked up his coat and bags. "Paul must be waiting for me in the next room. So I'll see you in two days' time, Till?"

" _Ja_. We'll be recording the final versions of 'Zwitter' and 'Nebel', don't forget to record the samples for that one. _Bis bald_."

Flake confirmed this, and he gave Khira Li a brief hug before leaving the studio along with Paul. The girl asked to be let down from Till's lap, and he complied; they sat together in comfortable silence for a long time. "You're very thoughtful," he commented after several minutes as he took another swig out of his water bottle. "penny for your thoughts, Khira Li?"

"I was just thinking about the song," she said, swinging her legs back and forth from her seat; her legs were too short to reach the ground. "the poor boy. But at least the boy wouldn't be lonely anymore if the Erlkönig kept to his promise, Uncle Till, isn't that right? I felt sorry for all of them. They were all seeking comfort in different ways."

"That's one way to look at things," he agreed. "it's all a matter of perspective."

She let out a little 'hmm' and picked at a bit of fluff on her jumper as Till also mulled over this. "Was it as good as a story as one of my usual ones?" she nodded. "that's good. Goethe and Schubert wrote beautifully, didn't they?"

"It wouldn't have meant half as much without you. Beautiful songs need to be sung by beautiful singers to work, you know," the young girl responded with such seriousness that Till found himself quite amused and flattered. But before he could reply, he saw a car outside driving up towards the building; he stood up, shielding his eyes with a hand from the glare of the sun reflecting off the window, before he grinned.

"Looks like your father's here."

"Khira Li, my darling!" Richard called from the doorway as if on cue, a cheerful grin on his face as his daughter immediately brightened and ran towards him with a cry of ' _Vatti_!' "and... up you go! There. How did the recording go, did you have fun?"

"It was!" she chirped as she was picked up in her father's arms. "and Uncle Till is a really good storyteller, _Vatti._ "

"He is, isn't he?" the guitarist replied, giving the older man a grateful smile and a thumbs-up. "did he tell you a story while you were waiting?"

Khira Li nodded. "He just sang me one, there was a boy and his father and the boy died."

"... What kind of stories _are_ those?!"

"Nothing worse than what she asked of me, Risch! It's not quite that bad, I just sang her 'Der Erlkönig'." Till laughed as Khira Li nodded solemnly; seeing this, the guitarist couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. Morbid as the stories that Till told might have been, his little girl had been sufficiently entertained and charmed throughout the day and that was what mattered the most. Besides, he was in the same band after all - he probably wasn't one to talk when it came to things like this. It made him feel a little bemused and yet ever more protective of his daughter.

"You will grow up to be quite a lovely young woman, Khira Li," Till teased as he rested a reassuring hand on the top of her head. "an intelligent, beautiful young woman to boot. Isn't that right, Risch?"

"Quite right! In fact, tomorrow we'll go shopping and we'll buy you a dress that's not white or sky blue or yellow. You're growing to be too old for pastel colors, sweetheart," Richard said as he kissed his daughter's forehead. Khira Li giggled, blushing. "perhaps a satin pink, a _deeper_ shade, might be a good start. And then when you turn nine years old in a few months you'll start learning to be a proper lady with the teacups and white lace doilies and all and when the boys come round for the first time I'll give them a good whack on the head with my guitars and Till will make them _eat burning microphones_ to prove themselves worthy of you."

Till did a double take. "Not when they're _on fire_! That'd be illegal in too many ways to count."

"I find it strange that out of everything in what I just said that you could protest about, you're complaining about them being on fire! And there's nothing wrong with it. If you and I could do it, so can they."

"You've _sung_ into a burning mic, Risch, there's a major difference between that and _eating_ one-"

"-But have they done it over a hundred times like I have? No, they haven't! My point still stands!"

Khira Li watched their friendly bickering with much amusement; as young as she was, she was still a lady and she was becoming increasingly happier at such a display of flattery. She threw her arms around Till's neck, laughter bubbling up from her innocent heart as the man immediately responded by holding her close and steady. "Oh, I love you, Uncle Till!" she cried. "I do!"

The singer looked a little stunned for a second or two, but soon he smiled wide in that rare and charming way, his eyes bright as he lightly stroked her hair and said an appreciative _'Ich auch'_. None of them, especially Till, was yet aware that a couple of years later Khira Li's comments on the event would inspire him during a particularly nasty bout of writer's block to write a song that he would call 'Dalai Lama', bringing his creativity up to speed for what would then be considered their best album by far. Richard and Khira Li left the studio shortly afterwards, giving him a wave as they drove away, and seeing them so happy together made Till feel a little homesick himself. Thinking quickly, he pulled out his phone and dialed a number without even needing to look at the keypad before bringing it up to his ear.

"Just wanted to hear your voice, Nele sweetheart. We've just finished the recording session," his daughter, now fifteen going on sixteen, answered in the affirmative. "and I was thinking... it's been a while since we went out for dinner, hasn't it?"

"Ooh, can we? Where, though?"

"How about the Italian place we went to for your birthday?" he grinned as Nele squealed happily, sounding at least three times as more cheered up and bubbly than her usual demeanor. "I'll take that as a yes. I'll be home in twenty minutes, get ready and we'll go straight away."

" _Bestimmt!_ But what brought this on?"

"Just a father wanting to take her daughter out on a little dinner date before she's too old for family dinner dates," Nele laughed from the other end. "what's that? You'll _never_ be too old for those? Bless you, darling. I'm coming over now. Twenty minutes sharp! I promise. _Habe dich lieb, Nele_."

"Love you too!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mirror Image: This piece turned out to be quite a lot longer and rather different to what I had imagined when I first started it. I don't think I've yet seen anything involving Richard and Nele interaction, for one, and I hadn't actually written Live Aus Berlin era Richard before. So this was an exploration into that. If you watch the Live Aus Berlin performance of 'Tier', it's Khira Li who's standing above the stage during the sequence; you can see Till and Richard glancing back in her direction repeatedly during the song with slightly worried looks on their faces. I kind of played off that, really. I've tried writing mature characters, I've tried writing teenagers, but I can say that preteens are a slightly different case - but I think I did okay with Nele. I wanted to make her very uniquely identifiable as Till's daughter, gifted with his bluntness and his way of speaking but at the same time a slightly lonely young girl who finds the change from her childhood life rather jarring. Till's tendency as the more experienced father is both shown and subverted here. Quite enjoyed writing about the goldfish for some reason. I've never kept goldfish in my life. Strange.
> 
> With Regards to Goethe: You might recognize this one as the sidestory to Silence that was announced on the 'List of Fanfics' widget on my profile since forever. Seeing as it was also centered around a Rammstein daughter, I decided to make it part of the collection. Definitely one of my lighter hearted pieces, featuring Khira Li who is probably one of the happiest characters I've ever written. For better comprehension see the text of of the Schubert Lieder and compare it to Rammstein's 'Dalai Lama'. Till must have been inspired by it at some point. It's fun to pick up on those references - as I mentioned before, I used to sing a bit of opera and Lieder. All beautifully written. My favourite is 'Die Forelle'.
> 
> [The thumb story is real.](http://www.gutenberg.org/files/12116/12116-h/12116-h.htm#The_Story_of_Little_Suck-a-Thumb) It goes like this:  
> 1\. Once upon a time there was a boy who pathologically sucked his thumbs.  
> 2\. His mother asked him to stop.  
> 3\. He did it anyway.  
> 4\. SUDDENLY SCISSORMAN COMES OUT FROM NOWHERE AND CUTS HIS THUMBS OFF WITH HUGE SHEARS  
> 5\. Now he has no thumbs.
> 
> God I love German fairy tales they are so psychotic. 'Harriet and the Matches' inspired Rammstein's 'Hilf Mir' too. Terrifying song, incredibly and unintentionally hilarious story. Seriously I laughed so hard reading it. This probably makes me a terrible person, but oh well.


	3. Daughter to Father - And Another Beginning

**Liebes Kind, Lieber Vater (Part 3) - A Rammstein Fanfiction**

\----------------------  
  
 **The Music of the Rain - From Nele to Till**  
  
Sarcastic daughters slam front doors.   
  
One such door in our flat slams in that way and that brings back memories of the past. Nele, when you were born the Wall was still up; but it was not to stay up for too long. I lived with you in a flat in East Berlin, much smaller than our current one, and every day I would gaze at the surroundings, wishing I were anywhere else but there. The dilapidated blocks, the whitewash of concrete and dim rusted streetlights that blinked precariously whenever someone passed by underneath; but that was so long ago, and you wouldn't remember that far back, sweetheart. When the Berlin Wall fell I drove across and bought some drinks and gummy bears for you and I, and then I remember getting back across, getting out of my car and standing there, staring ahead at where just a few days before there had been a huge wall blocking the view. A great change, one that signaled that things would change rapidly from then on, perhaps in ways that would be too much for many to handle. And I was right; during the weeks and months to follow, the East was forced to come to terms with the fact that its other half had progressed in leaps and bounds then unimaginable to them. Three decades had passed in the mere blink of an eye with the two halves of Berlin apart, and the simpler days were undeniably no more.  
  
Now you are like that, changing day by day, heading towards one inevitable conclusion. And that is the natural thing for I was once like that as well, along with the millions of people around the world who must also face their adulthood.   
  
I know you will not be back for a while. I should clear my thoughts as well; a little walk won't harm me. Our favourite cafe, just a few blocks away, would be somewhere to head towards. And even though I know that you've probably gone over to a friend's - something - _something_ about the cafe makes me hope that you might be there, drinking coffee with cream and biscuits in that youthful way you love, and if I hurry now I might just be able to catch you.   
  
There will not be many opportunities in the future for me to be able to catch you and protect you, after all. I try to capture every minute spent with you, but you've grown and now those increasingly-precious moments slip through my fingers all the time. I push the door of the cafe open; it opens with a light chime, and then I walk up to the counter.  
  
" _Guten Tag. Was möchten Sie trinken?_ "  
  
But my darling, I do wish I had been around more often. This is something I regret and will always regret, even though you're a competent young woman of your own. And that isn't your fault, oh no, you must never think such a thing. The fault is mine alone and I could do precious little to help it.   
  
" _Ich möchte eine Tasse Kaffee, bitte._ "  
  
And it makes me sad whenever I come home and your eyes sparkle with joy because I only get to see that look a couple of times a year. It makes me sad during times like this, whenever I'm getting ready to go on tour again or have to travel from home for whatever reason and you become depressed and react to my upcoming absence by pushing me away like you have done today. I know you try hard not to miss me, sweetheart. At your age, with so much for you to do, I understand.  
  
" _Mit Zucker oder Milch? Oder Sahne?_ "  
  
" _Zwei Zucker, ohne Milch..._ "  
  
" _Sonst noch etwas?_ "  
  
I will miss you, though, Nele. Every tour I have missed you and have wanted to get that across with letters and phone calls, but they're such poor substitutes compared to just being there.   
  
" _Ein Stück Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte, bitte._ "  
  
I know.  
  
I sit down where I can see the outside view with the slice of cake and cup of coffee. The coffee is relaxingly hot and sweet on my tongue, dark and bitter-sweet with a hint of chocolate. You never had to drink your coffee so strong at an early age, my darling, but whenever you'd secretly spoon in lots of sugar and cream in your cup, I'd notice and quietly smile to myself because it was just so completely innocent and childlike of you. Then you progressed onto three spoons of sugar with milk, two spoons - eventually milk - and then nothing. It was a sobering moment for me, the first time you drank your coffee as it was. I was sad to lose that part of you.  
  
Over the top of my coffee cup I see a girl and her father sitting opposite each other at a table for two. They're engaged in conversation and don't notice that I'm looking in their direction; they're certainly very close to each other, and I smile because they remind me of you and me when you were little. The girl looks about eight years old: she's quiet, wearing a dark green dress and has red hair and green eyes. Not very much like you or me - but she is an almost-perfect copy of her father, much like you are in relation to me, and how happy they are with each other! You were like that too, my darling, smiling and carrying on surprisingly-mature conversations at your age whenever we went anywhere together.  
  
Your eighth year was the last year we would spend as father-and-daughter and that alone. After that, Rammstein began, and the quiet times disappeared. I don't regret being in the band, but I regret that I have sacrificed so much time that I could have spent with you instead, and during the time where you were going through some major changes with your sense of self as well.   
  
The cake needs tending to. I pick up my silver fork and sink it beneath the surface of the cake, the cherry filling sweet and creamy; I slice off a little bit, and then bring it to my mouth. This is a nicely baked cake. Richard would be proud. The flavors are well matched; bittersweet chocolate and the sweet-sharp tartness of cherry, all balanced perfectly. As I eat and drink I glance outside at the sky, the sun setting outside, and wonder if you are feeling better and more willing to forgive me yet.  
  
I don't mean to restrict you, Nele. Whenever I saw you in the past years - for too little time than what would be acceptable, I admit this and I am not proud - you simply had grown so much in my absence that I could not adequately comprehend your needs, wants and responsibilities. Of course you want to carry on with your own life - you are nearly an adult in your own right, but I missed so much of the years of your growth that I still think of you as that little girl who I'd sing lullabies and tell stories to.  
  
One of the workers pass by me as he wipes down a couple of tables. Our eyes meet. "Are you enjoying your coffee?" he asks.  
  
"I am," I say, and he smiles and walks away. I drain the last drops of the coffee and then set it down - check my watch - then look towards the large window by my side. Five-forty in the afternoon, and it is beginning to rain. I always have loved the rain. There is something sweetly melancholic about sitting in a quiet cafe, watching the world going in fast-motion outside, the patrons' chatter muted with the downpour.  
  
Have you ever stayed awake to listen to the rain at night, Nele? Have you ever counted the raindrops tapping on the roof? Have you ever closed your eyes and murmured to yourself into the pillow, giving words to the rhythm the rain would beat out against the windows? I have. Many times over the years. The day that you were born, it was a sunny day, but just before you were born a steady shower came and faded away just as quickly when I held you for the first time in my arms. I remember looking out through the hospital window as the rain slowly ceased, waterdrops streaking across the glass and trickling gently downwards. It had seemed to me that it was trying to tell me something, something I couldn't quite place - but when the sunlight fell upon your sleeping face and I heard the last of the raindrops against the window, I knew.  
  
 _Ne-le_ , the rain sang out your new name, and I whispered it again, liking it instantly. _Nele_ , my daughter. My life, my light. Short for _Cornelia_ , 'war-horn', the absolute of womanly virtue from ancient times. I then smiled and kissed you for the first time, you curled up against my chest, and I knew you approved of your name.   
  
I should be heading back. I wrap my coat tightly around my form and shiver as I walk out of the cafe, the rain speckling my jacket in tiny little drops. A girl of maybe five skips past me, following her parents, stepping on puddles and giggling to herself - and even though she doesn't notice, I smile at her because she reminds me of you. The clearest memories I have are nearly all of you; your first steps, your first word, the feeling of hollow emptiness I felt when I had to leave you to learn and grow in school for the first time. Watching you working on homework. Writing notes for you on the fridge door with a pang in my heart, knowing that you were sleeping in your room but afraid to wake you for fear that you would exhausted in school the morning after. The first time you put on makeup - only a year ago, yes, but you were sixteen and it made me catch my breath.   
  
There are still more memories to come, though. Now seventeen years old, and with only months to go before your eighteenth birthday, you will soon head off to university while I congratulate you, drop you off at the dorm, and drive off while trying not to weep. One day you will probably have a child of your own (even though you insist now that you won't have any) and we'll sit and laugh about how old I've already become as I hold my first grandchild in my arms. And one day - far, far in the distant future, hopefully - I will have to lie down and let my life fade away as you hold my hand and whisper - _Vatti, stay with me a little longer, please_ \- and I will look at you and let the look in my eyes respond: _don't cry, darling, we'll see each other again someday._  
  
The best of lives all end in a similar manner to this, I believe. It's the monotony of it that makes it beautiful and terribly sad.  
  
I have thought about all those scenarios countless times in the past, translating them into poetry and lyrics whenever they built up to such an extent that they simply couldn't stay as thoughts any longer. Just a few months ago I collected some of those poems and published them, a condensation of my soul on paper; two of them for you and you alone. At your young age, I do know that you find them more morbid than anything, my Nele - but as long as you remember those two poems, and get the barest inkling of my undying devotion and love for you from them, my work is a success.   
  
Nothing else matters because I love you. I will always love you. I will always be on your side. Nothing can take that truth away from me.  
  
I turn the corner and towards the suburbs, closer towards the flat, and see that there's a small, extinguished St. Martin's Day bonfire just outside the building. We were watching that from the balcony last night, Nele, weren't we? One wouldn't expect such a fire to be lit outside a block of flats in Berlin, but one always finds ways to celebrate the smallest things. The rain must have put it out during dawn; I stand and look at it, at the surrounding patches of wet earth where footsteps and firework wrappers are still visible, the wood burnt to stumps and very little remaining but a pile of ashes on the ground. When the waste collectors come tomorrow, every trace of it will be cleared away.  
  
The rain carries on soaking into my coat as I keep on looking at the remains of the bonfire - it must look bizarre to anyone who's passing by, a man standing still and staring at the ground for no apparent reason. But I'm remembering. I'm remembering the way the air smelled last night, sweet-smoky from the hot air rising from the bonfire up to our balcony, and the way you leaned over by the railings and watched with a little smile on your lips. I'm remembering the way your green eyes - green like mine - reflected the glow of the fire. You looked at me, I looked at you, and in that moment I knew that there would be less and less moments like this in the future, moments when I truly realize how much like me you are. You are becoming increasingly aware of my flaws, and that these same flaws will one day be your own, and you are rightfully frustrated at me for it.   
  
But in that moment we were simply father and daughter, watching the St. Martin's celebrations standing side by side, just like the way we used to do when you were younger and I had to pick you up and hold you in my arms to let you see over the railings.  
  
Nele, my darling, you are the way you are, you are growing up in the way all teenagers eventually must, and I love you for it. You are already an adult mentally, this much I know, but even when you are older with a child of your own nothing shall diminish the image of you as a little girl behind my eyes. Amongst adults you walk past, awkward, hesitant and not quite having found your place yet; things are not quite clear for you yet, you are still in the dark over more things than you feel happy being in the dark about. You say you can't wait to grow up, and that it's taking so long, but within a couple of years - too soon for me - maturity will switch off your eternal night and you will begin life with the passiveness of grown-ups. Soon the nameless things that constantly revolve in your mind, that sense of je ne sais quoi, will have false names thrust upon them and you will grow to accept that as truth.   
  
And that's the natural thing, Nele. It saddens me a little, but it's the natural thing. I give one last look at the remains of the bonfire before I turn away, engraving the image in my mind.  
  
A pile of ashes is a beautiful thing, Nele. Even though they eventually cool down and are inevitably swept away in the wind.   
  
A pile of ashes is a beautiful thing because it once burned for someone. I want you to never forget that, my daughter, my princess, my eternal _raison d'etre._  
  
\-----  
  
"Where have you _been?_ "   
  
The first thing that Till heard as he stepped in the front door was this shrill exclamation from Nele, who immediately got up from the sofa and started towards him. He was soaking, streaks of rainwater running down his face from strands of wet hair; seeing this, Nele stopped a few steps away from her father and turned away, quickly running to the bathroom and fetching a towel instead. "Don't move, you'll get the floor all wet - _Gott_ , I was so worried!"  
  
Till said nothing. Even through his daughter's exasperated and vexed demeanor he saw the admirable young woman that she had become. She was officially an adult after all, and even though he would never quite be used to thinking of her as such, all the minor arguments that they'd had - the way she dressed, the colour of her clothes, who was doing the cooking and washing up - seemed so pointlessly trivial and he felt a twinge of both pride and sorrow realizing that she had grown up so quickly. Soon Nele would be moving out, leaving her room behind - frozen in eternal pre-adulthood - and then all arguments, too, would fall silent forever.   
  
"How long were you walking in the rain?"  
  
"Not for very long," he said; she raised her eyebrow as she toweled his hair dry and mopped his face free of the rain, having to tiptoe to reach his height. Without quite knowing it, he smiled with a mixture of apology and fondness down at her. "I wanted to go for a walk, that was all. I'm sorry, Nele."  
  
"Leaving your phone in your room while you went out God knows where, too! Ri- _di_ -cu-lous," she said haughtily, pronouncing the word in her oddly-charming way even as she pulled the towel away from him. "that's what happens when you're half a century old!"  
  
"But I'm only forty this year, Nele darling," Till said; he didn't mean for it to sound like he was correcting her, but Nele nevertheless huffed and flicked the damp towel in his direction.  
  
"Fifty years," she shot back insistently. "time flies when you're a dolt."  
  
But she wasn't angry at him for long. When he'd settled himself down by the sofa, she brought him a glass of water and informed him of the two calls that she had received on their house phone during his absence. "Paul called about two hours ago," she said as she bustled about, dusting cushions and rearranging the rug by the coffee table. "he said something about a dinner arrangement later tonight. That's why I was so worried when I couldn't get through to you, I didn't know when you'd be back..."  
  
"Oh, that one. It seems I came back on time."  
  
"He said he expected you over at eight. Better get ready soon."  
  
"I will. What was the second one, Nele?"  
  
Straightening up, Nele tucked a strand of loose honey-brown hair behind her ear as she picked up the phone. " _Onkel Rick_ ," she said. At this, Till glanced sharply in her direction and sat up, an action that did not go unnoticed by his daughter. "he called about ten minutes before you came in. He wasn't on the phone for long, though."  
  
"Did he ask me to call him back?" Nele nodded. "right. I see. Thank you, sweetheart. I'm probably going to have to call him while at Paul's house... while he gets ready..." he put down the glass and stood up, walking into his room. "I'll have to go now, then, seeing as it's past half-six... I imagine I'll be back before midnight, Nele. It's just dinner."  
  
Till then excused himself and briefly shut the door while he changed out of his damp clothes; he made sure to do so as fast as possible, but when he re-emerged from the room (not five minutes later) he was a little startled to see that Nele was still sitting there in the exact same position, gazing intently at him.   
  
Nele was by no means a demanding girl, and he was by no means a conflict-seeker, but it was inevitable that as she grew up they would disagree on an increasing number of things. They would argue; afterwards it would usually be the case that they would be back on friendly terms within hours. But when it came to important or personal issues, Nele would refuse to really open up to her father for days at a time, silently nursing whatever wound she gained from every clash with Till before she felt that she was ready to talk again. Till was very aware of this, for she always gained a dull, slightly distant look in her eyes when she was letting herself calm down - in the exact manner that he did too, sometimes.  
  
Now was not that time. Her eyes were clear and green and filled with purpose. He stood at his doorway in silence, the thought of his appointment with Paul suddenly quite forgotten; his daughter wanted to tell him something, something he must have missed in the minutes beforehand. _I've been careless again,_ he chastised himself deep inside, and braced himself so that he might hear her out as best as he could.   
  
"Nele?"  
  
She stood up and walked a few steps towards him. But before she quite reached him - perhaps about seven steps away - she stopped and looked down, looking suddenly rather bashful. "You're leaving again tomorrow, right, _Vatti_?" Nele asked, shifting a little from one foot to another. She didn't quite meet her father's eyes. "when... when will you be back?"  
  
There was a pause. She hadn't called him ' _Vatti_ ' for a long time now.  
  
"... I'm not quite sure, darling. It's just a brief reunion to see how things are going so I don't imagine I'd be longer than two weeks. But it'd be at least three days before everyone gets there," Till stopped there and nervously licked his bottom lip. "... I think we're due in for an interview or two as well, and seeing as - _some of us_ \- have been going through hard times..."  
  
If there was a more apt moment to curse his inability to be utterly honest with his daughter, this was it; Nele looked at him for a long while, green eyes unblinking and fixed on his own, and he looked back. He knew that by 'some of us' he really meant - _Richard_ \- and that Nele had understood him as such.   
  
In all honesty, Till did not know how much Nele knew about his feelings towards Richard. Of course the man was a friend, almost family and a second father to Nele (just as Till was towards Khira Li), and until recently he'd thought that that was all that his daughter needed to know. But 'oblivious' had never been a part of Nele's personality and during the past years Till had noticed (with some discomfort) that she had been giving him knowing looks whenever Richard's name came up in conversation; when the guitarist had moved to New York proper, Till had been more downhearted than he himself had expected to be, and it had also been his daughter who'd been especially understanding towards him during that time. And yet they'd never talked about it, never mentioned the possibility that perhaps Till felt more for Richard than-  
  
" _Vatti_."  
  
"Yes, Nele?"  
  
Something in her eyes softened. "... You miss _Onkel Rick_ , right?"  
  
How could he react to that with anything but the utmost honesty? "Very much so," he admitted, and for some reason that made him unable to meet Nele's eyes. "I... I wish I could help him with the things that trouble him, but he lives so far away now that I..."  
  
 _But why don't you feel that way with your daughter,_ his conscience reprimanded him, making him falter. _When she's actually close by you and just waiting for you to listen to her?_  
  
"I feel like I'm missing the essential people in my life," he confessed, sensing that if he didn't say this now, it'd be difficult to find another time to do so within close proximity. "I know it might be no longer my business, how he's doing and how he's taking care of himself - he's four years into his marriage, it's not my place to interfere with anything that he does any more. But... you know how Rammstein used to meet up almost every day, all six of us," Nele nodded, prompting him to go on, and he paused.  
  
"We can't do that any more," he said. "not as often. Not since Richard moved to the US."  
  
"I know that. But is there _more, Vatti_?"  
  
 _How much do you want to know, Nele? What do you mean by 'more'?_  
  
Till sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I don't know how to say this," he said somewhat tiredly. "I miss him... very, _very_ much, Nele. I miss him to such an extent that I can't express it adequately myself. And really... I think he might be better off _not_ knowing, I don't want him to misunderstand," he hesitated. "... and I probably shouldn't be saying this, but he's still your _Onkel Rick_ , isn't he? I feel that you ought to be aware of this, either way. Richard's having a... how should I put it, rough time. I just want to help him out, but there is only so much I can do, and I don't want him to feel that I'm interfering - but I don't want him to feel that I've neglected him, either, or that I don't really care. Because that's not what I want at all. _Das ist alles._ "  
  
Nele didn't nod or frown. No, she beamed at him upon hearing those words, and then Till realized that most of what he'd said aloud also applied to the situation between her and him; without a word she looked at the time and went to fetch his coat from where it'd been drying, nodding in approval when she checked it. And he stood there, feeling oddly drained and yet satisfied, knowing that just by being honest with her once they'd reached a much-needed understanding. And all because of a question regarding Richard. It'd been so _simple_ , all this time, and he hadn't known.  
  
"I think you do care," the girl said softly. "and probably too much."  
  
"Do you think so?"  
  
Nele nodded and held the coat open; Till took that as an invitation and turned his back on her, holding his arms out as his daughter slipped the coat over his body. She turned him around and dusted the lapels, while the man just stood there and gazed silently at her - she'd become so tall now, and had adopted the fussy mannerisms that he himself had displayed when she was a child.   
  
"I'm okay, _Vatti_ ," she said.  
  
"And I'm proud of you," Till responded before he pulled her into a tight hug; she clung to him with almost the same intensity, and as he kissed her forehead he treasured the moment - knowing that there would not be many opportunities to express his love for her like this in the future - but still, thanks to his daughter, he no longer regretted anything. Neither he nor Nele could keep holding onto the idea of what might have been had he not become the frontman and vocalist of Rammstein, the idea that perhaps he could have been around more to care for her as she grew up; he'd done his best, his daughter understood, and that was all that mattered. Neither of them could take back what had never happened, after all.  
  
" _Vatti_?"  
  
"Yes, love?"  
  
"When you go tomorrow to meet up with everyone."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Dress warm," Nele said quietly, and fastened the top button of Till's coat for him before giving him an awkward nod and walking out of the room. He would remember that and smile whenever he wore that coat, not just for the duration of the reunion but for the next seven years that he would keep it.  
  
\-----  
  
 **Cross-Communication - From Khira Li to Richard**  
  
"So that's why you have to understand, Khira Li..."  
  
That was what her father was saying, at least, but the young girl wasn't convinced that she wanted to - or even could - understand.   
  
"... Caron won't be living with us anymore. She's left us... while you were in school she came back to collect her belongings, and..."  
  
Perhaps this was inevitable. Khira Li wasn't exactly brought up in a troubled household, having been relatively content with just her father (and her 'uncle Till' and her half-sister) during her childhood years and having found an agreeable relationship with her stepmother Caron; but even considering those and her young age, the recent ominous tension in the house hadn't gone unnoticed. It'd been a while since she could remember being with both her father and Caron in the same house, at the same time. Caron had been absent an _awful lot_ recently, and she _had_ felt terribly uneasy about the whole business - so maybe she should have seen it coming, all along.  
  
"I don't know whether we'd be able to see her again," Richard paused, and gazed at her anxiously. "I hoped that it wouldn't come to this."  
  
It sure didn't mean that she was ready to accept any of this, though.   
  
"... Khira Li, are you... are you all right?"  
  
Slowly, like a diver rising to the surface, she became aware of the world slowly opening up once more around her, and along with that she became aware that Richard had a hand resting on her shoulders and was calling her name anxiously. She raised her head, feeling surprisingly weary at that simple action, and looked at him; her father's face was creased with worry, looking every year of his age in that moment, and she didn't know what to feel about it.  
  
"... Can I have a drink of water?" Khira Li finally spoke up, her voice soft to the point of near inaudibleness - so soft that Richard briefly thought she was about to faint. He actually sat there staring at her for a while, wondering if she had said something else entirely or whether she wanted to say more, but when she just closed her eyes tiredly he leapt into action.   
  
"Oh... oh, of course, darling..."  
  
With that, Richard stood up and walked to the kitchen, leaving his daughter alone on the sofa. He took care not to let it show that he, too, was on the verge of a breakdown himself - he had to stay strong for Khira Li if no one else - and deliberately tried to keep to an even pace as he poured some water into a clean glass and walked back into the living room. She took it from his hands without a single word and sipped at it; she was clearly confused and trying to keep a clear mind, but her distress was obvious from the way she drained her glass so quickly that she ended up coughing a little.   
  
"I'm fine," Khira Li mumbled before Richard could ask. Putting the glass aside, she looked back up at him again. "why did she leave?"  
  
"I don't know _why_ she left," she raised her eyebrows a little, and he sighed in defeat. "she actually left yesterday... I didn't want to believe it and she didn't leave a note or anything, I just didn't know whether she really meant it or not and didn't want to tell you then. It only became clear today," he paused and looked at her pleadingly. "but... but that's not the main problem! It's you who're more important here, Khira Li."  
  
"And Caron leaving isn't?" she asked, blue eyes fixing directly upon his, her voice filled with no emotion at all and ever more hurtful for it. Richard blinked in disbelief, before he ducked his head down in shame, looking profoundly devastated; the worst scenario he could have thought of was coming true in front of him and he was so inadequately prepared for it.  
  
"No... No, love, that's not what I..."  
  
"I'm going to bed," Khira Li cut in, standing up. " _gute Nacht, Vatti_."  
  
\-----  
  
She did not give him her usual goodnight kiss or even look back as she left, and that was what hurt Richard the most.  
  
\-----  
  
Once back in her room, however, Khira Li didn't go to bed. She closed the door behind her - only to lean heavily against it, staring into the darkness, feeling and thinking nothing. What her father had said kept going around and around in her mind - _Caron won't be living with us anymore, I don't know whether we'll be able to see her again, I don't know why she left_ \- and she let out a faint moan, clenching her eyes shut and sliding down the door to sit on the floor with her head buried in her knees.  
  
 _I don't know_. The phrase she dreaded hearing the most from her father. He'd never been so unsure of anything before, at least as far as she could remember, and she was terrified and even repelled at the thought.   
  
She really had to wonder if this was all her fault that Caron had left, somehow. She'd always thought that her and Caron had gotten along swimmingly; of course there had always been arguments, but they had never been truly malicious, only consisting of the minor conflicts that any household would plausibly go through. But if she hadn't had a problem with Khira Li, then the only real other alternative was her father, and that was an even more disturbing possibility that she didn't want to face.   
  
So hat was she going to do now?  
  
Perhaps she could put aside the unpleasant thoughts and go to bed early for the time being, but Khira Li didn't feel the least like sleeping. The thought that she should perhaps share this distressing news with someone else rose to mind as well, but - to whom? She couldn't immediately think of any friend she had who'd listen to her problem as a serious, life-changing matter and not a scandal caused by Richard Kruspe, the lead guitarist of Rammstein. Having a world-famous guitarist for a father was terribly inconvenient that way. She raised her head and stared blankly ahead once more, thinking furiously; her father had said that he hadn't announced the separation to anyone else. If she told anyone she could think of in her immediate vicinity, it could cause nothing but headaches.  
  
"Oh," she mumbled - and sniffled a little as she frantically dabbed at her eyes. "oh. Oh my God. This is - this is so unfair..."  
  
But then it clicked. If she couldn't talk to Richard nor any friends, she still had someone to reach out to. Sitting up at the realization, she gazed anxiously towards the phone and back towards the door - no footsteps were to be heard outside. It wasn't very likely that she'd be disturbed; which was just as well, considering who she was about to call. So she jumped to it without much consideration, too desperate for someone to confide in, and made the international call to Till Lindemann.  
  
She was waiting for a long time, listening to the dull droning of the signal tone in the background, tense and almost completely still. Was it likely that Till knew about the separation already? Probably not. The girl hoped that he wouldn't pry just yet; not as if he was really a type to do so, but-  
  
" _Guten Abend, hier spricht Herr Lindemann. Wer ist es?_ "  
  
Khira Li opened her mouth, but her mind had suddenly gone blank. Till's reassuring, smooth voice had awakened something inside her that she didn't yet want to face - something paternal, something entirely too comforting that made her want to curl up in her bed and cry her eyes out, and she didn't know what to do with herself. " _Hallo?_ " the voice was still saying, and for a moment she was contemplating just putting the phone down. But she had to talk to Nele, if she was to break down she could do it in earshot of her half-sister, but for now she had to be brave.  
  
"Guten Abend," Khira Li finally responded, never forgetting her manners. "uncle, it's me, Khira Li."  
  
"Oh, hello!" the man sounded pleasantly surprised at her call, and she could hear something shifting at the other end as he presumably sat down somewhere with the phone in hand. "I haven't heard from you in a while. How are you, sweetheart?"  
  
"I'm... I'm doing okay," a white lie. But there was no sense in worrying Till just yet; Khira Li hastily cleared her throat and returned the question to steer the subject away from her well-being. "and you?"  
  
Till laughed a little; but unbeknownst to her, he had picked up on the oddly downhearted tone in her voice. He was just as sensitive to her moods as he was to Nele's own, after all. "Growing older every day and enjoying every second of it. The usual, nothing interesting in particular. So what led you to call me?"  
  
She paused, biting her lower lip. "I... um... I..." Till waited patiently, not asking any more questions than that, letting her bid her time. Khira Li was a honest girl and would tell him of her own accord eventually. "... I kind of wanted to talk to Nele."  
  
"Nele? She moved out two months ago to her new flat. She doesn't live here anymore."  
  
"... Oh."  
  
Till cleared his throat, sounding considerably more subdued. "But I have her number if you need to get in touch with her. Do you have a pen?"  
  
"Hold on..." she snatched up a pen and a piece of paper from a nearby notebook; there were words written on the page, but she had none of that in mind as she scribbled the number down and repeated it aloud to Till. "... was that right, uncle?"  
  
"Yes. I suppose you'll be wanting to call her now, Khira Li?"  
  
"I... I guess so..."  
  
She was suddenly worried that she had come across as too rude, hardly asking Till anything about how his life had been after a couple of months with no contact, but the singer understood entirely too well. He'd had experience with his own daughter, after all, and chances were that he would later be able to get the information from Nele. "Call her now, sweetheart," he told her, his tone gentle and soothing. "whatever it might be, I can see that it's something for the ladies to discuss first. Don't you worry, hmm?"  
  
"Yes. _Danke, Onkel_."  
  
" _Bitte_. Tell your father I said hello."  
  
Khira Li replied in the affirmative and hung up, the queasy feeling within her having been eased ever so slightly. She didn't feel completely better, but at least she felt a little more confident in calling up Nele; knowing that her courage might evaporate at any moment, she determinedly reached for the number that Till had given her, mouthing each number as she pressed the corresponding button, before she pressed 'dial' and waited in anxiousness.   
  
The dial tone seemed to go on forever. Khira Li glanced up at the wall clock; twenty-five past seven in the evening. It would be past midnight in Berlin now. Khira Li knew that both Nele and Till were partial to staying up at odd hours, but nevertheless she hadn't exactly wanted to disturb them when they doubtless were resting and spending the night in relative quiet. _At least Uncle Till didn't have to worry about all this_ , she told herself - not that it made her feel any better, because it reminded her of the burden that she would be placing on her half-sister's shoulders within minutes.   
  
"... _Hallo, hier ist Nele Lindemann._ "  
  
Or far less than that.  
  
" _Hallo, Nele,_ " Khira Li responded, and even in her moon she couldn't help but smile a little at the exclamation of surprise and delight from the other end. "I know it's late, but-"  
  
"Oh, that's not a problem at all! You know how late I stay up as it is," and indeed she didn't sound as if she'd been woken up, something that the younger girl was relieved about. "I was wondering how you were doing recently, too. How are you?"  
  
"Never mind how I'm doing at the moment," she said quickly. "I heard from _Onkel Till_ that you'd moved out."  
  
Nele laughed, a warm and reassuring sound. "I have. It's still a little rocky living by myself, but I'm managing okay. A good thing I knew my way around the kitchen and setting up the furniture even before I came to live alone, _nein_?"  
  
The younger girl wasn't an expert at either of those things, but she nodded and replied in the affirmative nonetheless. "I'm glad to hear it, Nele."  
  
"Nothing too special's happened other than that, though. So how're you doing? Are you doing okay?"  
  
That was when the floodgates opened. " _Ich weiss nicht_ ," Khira Li whispered, before suddenly beginning to sob. "I don't know. I don't _know!_ "  
  
She hastily covered her mouth with her hand, but Nele had already heard. "Oh, darling, please don't cry," her distressed voice was calling anxiously from the other end. "I... I didn't mean to make you cry. Shh... Calm down, Khira Li..."  
  
"I can't calm down. Caron's _left_ us, Nele, she just packed up and left me and _Vatti_!"  
  
As expected, Nele was completely silent for a while. "Oh," she finally spoke up, her voice shaking as well. "oh. Oh, Khira Li, I'm so _sorry_."  
  
"I can't believe it. He only just told me."  
  
"But... but why?"  
  
"I don't know," Khira Li cried; it was illogical, she knew - there was no way that Nele could feel the extent of her anguish over the phone, without even being able to see her face, but her older half-sister simply sounded so lost and confused that she was beginning to feel oddly defensive again. "I don't know... It must have been either my dad or me, I just can't believe that it was because of him... he and Caron were getting along so well. I - I think... I think maybe she left because I was too demanding or-"  
  
" _Mein Gott!_ No. _Stop that_ ," her voice was suddenly stern and tinged with even more worry, and this made the younger girl pause. "it's not and _never_ will be your fault, do you understand? Never talk about it like that. Don't you ever think of yourself like that, do you hear me?"  
  
Silence.  
  
" _Halbschwester_. Please answer me."  
  
"I understand," Khira Li murmured. "are you... are you going to tell _Onkel Till_?"  
  
Again, Nele was silent, and when she spoke up again her voice was much more subdued; she was clearly trying to be as sensitive as possible after that brief outburst. "Well... I'm not sure, Khira Li. What does your father think?"  
  
The younger girl said nothing. She hadn't given much thought to it, and admittedly wasn't in the best of moods to try thinking of the possibilities, but Nele understood. "I wouldn't tell him if you were uncomfortable or you haven't discussed it with your father, of course, I'd-"  
  
"Oh, no, no. I want him to know. Better he know than anyone else, right now," she stopped, letting out an anguished groan. "I just... I don't... I didn't think anything like this would ever happen. _Vatti_ and Caron, they looked so happy together, I don't understand..."  
  
"People don't work in predictable ways. But I guess you had no reason to _think_ that it would ever be something you and _Onkel Rick_ would need to deal with."  
  
" _Ja_. How on earth did you manage, Nele? When _Onkel Till_ and..."  
  
There was a sudden silence down the line from both of the girls; having shared the same birth mother, it was a rather awkward question to ask. "I don't remember," the older girl nevertheless said honestly, averting the situation. "as far as I know, _Vater_ was the only parent who was around all the time, the oldest memories I have all involve him... _tut mir leid_. I was just so young."  
  
"Fair enough. But..." Khira Li sighed heavily. "... I know I have to understand, I know I've got to come to terms with it, but it's just so _unfair_..."  
  
"Growing up is hard, Khira Li," Nele's voice told her, sounding soft and sad. "it's hard. No one understands."  
  
"But you do, right?" the younger girl whispered into the receiver, curling up tight. "you understand me, right?"  
  
"As much as you want me to, little sister."  
  
\-----  
  
It was a long while before they were finished with their conversation; when Nele had finally hung up, Khira Li sat with her legs crossed on her bed, thinking. She certainly felt a lot better for having talked to both Till and Nele; they'd made her feel much less alone and she was immensely grateful for it.  
  
But with that reassurance, more questions became opened up for her to think about. Khira Li knew that she was going to have to face her father sometime soon - ideally before midnight, so they could both clear up any misunderstandings and manage some degree of sleep with at least some assurance of their bond. That could only be more and more awkward and difficult to achieve the longer she left it - even the morning might not be soon enough.  
  
Of course she wasn't looking forward to it. A part of her reasoned that her father must have had some part in the entire business, however minimal, and that kept her from placing the blame entirely on Caron or herself - quite frankly, she doubted that she'd even be able to look at him properly. But at least she understood better now that it had to be done.  
  
Besides, she had gone to Till and Nele for help, hadn't she? Hadn't she basically called them so she wouldn't feel so isolated? So why wouldn't Richard, currently with no one except for the company of himself and the very-present burden of divorce upon his shoulders, be feeling terribly alone and frightened? This was something she hadn't ever given very close consideration to - she hadn't needed to do so, that had been Caron's part - but now that she was really thinking about it, that was most definitely the case.   
  
And it wasn't just now, either. Till and Nele, whenever Khira Li met them or talked to them about something and asked for their opinion, would often hold back and ask her as to what Richard felt about it instead - she'd never really understood why they would change the subject like that until now. Somehow, perhaps due to the way she had been charmed at an early age by Till's voice and poetry and how Nele at a young age had looked after her as best as possible, Khira Li had become particularly fond of referring to them for anything that she wanted to know - while putting her father, who was just as prepared to teach and show her, second.  
  
"Oh, Khira Li," she mumbled. "you're an idiot. A proper idiot."  
  
She knew what to do now. Standing up, she took a deep breath to steady herself, and began walking.  
  
 _I'm not sure, Khira Li.  
  
What does your father think? _  
  
\-----  
  
Richard sat on his bed, staring blankly into thin air, one of his guitars plugged in and set on his lap; but he made no move to play it. He'd had no intention of doing so in the first place - he'd wanted to do something to take his mind off the situation, search for some kind of familiarity that he could cling onto, and he'd sought refuge in the simple action of holding his guitar. But now he'd achieved that objective, he had no idea what to do next; his shoulders slumped even further as he sighed and dropped his gaze towards the instrument on his lap.  
  
His fingers touched the strings, trembled for a moment, and then slipped off the guitar. Even his music had deserted him for the time being. Closing his eyes in despair, Richard drew his knees up (with the instrument still balanced on them) and lowered his head, resting his forehead against his knees and feeling alone - more alone than he had felt in years. Right now he had nothing but loathing for himself for letting things deteriorate to this extent; he'd disappointed Khira Li, he'd almost definitely lost his wife for good, and he was much too far away from his bandmates and closest friends to seek solace with them. Of course he had friends here - but they weren't the same, they hadn't lived through a rapidly-changing Germany back in the nineties as his bandmates had done with him. New York felt so oppressive to him right now, crushing him with the feeling of total isolation. He'd brought all this on himself.  
  
Besides, Khira Li had been the first person that he'd confided in about the matter of his impending divorce, and he couldn't expect anyone else here to understand and sympathize fully when even his own daughter wasn't taking it well. He hadn't expected her to take it in stride in the first place, but he'd really have preferred that she had been angry or tearful - her silence frightened him more than he wanted to admit to himself, and he was rather dreading the morning. How was he going to be able to face her now?  
  
Times like this, he missed Till terribly. Till would have known what to do, having gone through a marriage and divorce himself. He'd thought he was doing so well, that Khira Li was old enough and that his marriage had been stable enough that he hadn't needed to ask Till's advice any more, but now...  
  
"I don't know what to do," he whispered, his grip tightening. "I need you. _Till_. Till, please call me, you always call every week. I don't know what to do anymore."  
  
He stared blearily at his bedside clock. Ten o'clock. Khira Li was probably asleep; he wanted to knock on her door even now, plead for another chance to explain himself and dispel her of any notion that she might be developing, that perhaps it'd been her fault that Caron had left. No, that wouldn't do at all! But at the same time he was also afraid, deathly afraid of what Khira Li must think of him right now, and besides it'd just be terrible for him to invade her privacy in addition to having all this burden suddenly thrown upon her shoulders-  
  
"- _Vatti_?"  
  
Richard's head snapped up, and he stared with surprised eyes at his daughter standing in front of the door. "... Darling?"  
  
She smiled sadly at him, but there was no resentment in there. Walking over to the bed, she sat down next to him and leaned against his shoulder; without even needing to think about it he pushed the guitar off his lap and set it aside, wrapping her in an embrace. Khira Li didn't move away; he didn't know what had happened to her in the past couple of hours, but she somehow seemed to know now that he needed her trust and love right now just as much as she needed his assurance.  
  
"... What are we going to do now, _Vatti_?" she asked quietly. Richard said nothing for a long time, but his arms tightened around his daughter, the only link to reality that he had close to him now; he didn't know how to answer her, but he knew one thing, and that was that he would not let her suffer from what was to come. She was too precious to him for that. And that also meant that there was no point in lying to her about anything - from now on he was to be honest with her. Not that he had been dishonest before, but there would be no more withholding information, no more false condolences - she wanted what he could give to her, she wanted his honesty, and his love for her was more than honest enough.  
  
"I don't know, Khira Li."  
  
She didn't cry or fall into a grim silence as he had expected her to. Instead she just smiled at him - a tired smile, but a genuine one regardless - and simply nuzzled deeper into his chest.  
  
"Well," she murmured. "well, then _we_ don't know."  
  
"... I failed you, darling... I'm so sorry..."  
  
"No, no," Khira Li said, and reached up to hold him close. "as long as it's with you... I think I can handle it. I wouldn't call that 'having failed'."  
  
There was nothing more Richard could add to this, and he felt no need to do so. She buried her head in his chest and from the way she trembled just once he knew that she was crying; swallowing his own tears, Richard shut his eyes and pulled her, stroking her head the way he had done when she had been nothing but an innocent little girl; with the way she sometimes acted it was easy to forget that she was still very young.  
  
"Whatever happens," he promised as he held her. "I'm going to take care of you. The way I always have done. That's not going to change, Khira Li."  
  
"I trust you."  
  
And for now, that was enough.  
  
\-----  
  
 **Another Beginning**  
  
"Nele, wait up!"  
  
Through the bustling Sunday-streets of Berlin two women were strolling across the pavement; one held a child, barely a toddler, in her arms and had long caramel-blonde hair, while the other girl had dark hair and a slightly tanned complexion. The former stopped to let her companion catch up, and smiled.  
  
"How is it that I'm much faster than you even with a son in tow, Khira Li?"  
  
The younger girl huffed slightly and tossed her head to the side; she wore long gold earrings which glittered in the sun. "I just spent such a long time away from Berlin - the streets are much narrower here, that's all!"  
  
"How on earth are you going to manage university here?" the older of the two teased fondly; the boy in her arms chuckled and clung onto her shoulder. "not now, Fritz, love," she cooed, stroking the soft curls of his hair. "we aren't far off."  
  
"I'm sure I'll find a way. Me and _Vatti_ , we both belong in Berlin after all," Khira Li smiled - and then paused thoughtfully. "... I still find it hard to believe that he's here and living together with _Onkel Till_... he did say that he was looking for a place of his own nearby, but from the sounds of it he just seemed so _happy_ there. I don't think he will for a while."  
  
"He's been through a lot recently. I mean, I was surprised too, but my father doesn't mind - and that's the most important thing, that they're both happy, isn't it?"  
  
"You're right there - hey, Nele, wait up, I think I've got a call or something..." the younger girl briefly checked her phone. "... oh, _Vatti_! He just sent a message.   
  
"What'd he say?"  
  
"They're waiting for us. Let's go!"  
  
\-----  
  
"Come in, Nele, Khira Li!"  
  
Till greeted them at the door with a bright smile, dressed neatly in jeans and a dress shirt; after giving both of them greeting kisses, he immediately began fussing over Fritz. "Isn't this too much? You haven't seen me for ages, and you only have eyes for your grandson when I do come over!" Nele teased as she took off her shoes.  
  
"The whole family's together for the first time in years, of course I would, princess!"   
  
"True," Nele admitted, and made her way straight to the living room; Khira Li followed suit, and they were both greeted to the sight of a smartly-dressed Richard sitting on an armchair and sipping at a cup of coffee with a newspaper on his lap.  
  
" _Vatti_!"  
  
"Khira Li!" he called, beaming as he stood up; he opened his arms and laughed joyfully as he daughter ran into him, holding her tight. "oh, darling, it's so nice to see you! Are you settled into your dorm? Eating well? Have you met any new friends already? Have-"  
  
"One question at a time!" the younger girl laughed. "I unpacked my things just yesterday. But I'm doing well so far. Are you, too?"  
  
Richard smiled and ruffled her hair, a light of utter contentment in his eyes; that look alone spoke volumes about how he was finding life with Till. "I am," he said; Till had also come in by this point, and Khira Li didn't miss how the two shared a slight glance as he did so. "Till's been nothing but an _excellent_ host, I have to say."  
  
"I'm glad that Herr Kruspe thinks so," Till answered lightly, and then they both laughed. "anything to drink? We'll be starting on the lunch soon."  
  
"Ooh. A coffee for me, _Vatti_. Three sugars and cream."  
  
"Same for me too, Onkel. But without the sugar."  
  
" _Ich verstehe,_ " the singer nodded, and briefly left for the kitchen. Nele and Khira Li settled into the sofas themselves, Fritz balanced on her lap; for a very young boy, he was surprisingly very docile and quiet, merely looking around the room with curiosity before reaching out towards Khira Li and grasping her thumb with a tiny hand. She giggled and stroked the back of his baby-soft hands in response, making him let out a little laugh.  
  
"He's grown remarkably," the guitarist said from the side; he was gazing at Fritz and how the child had Till's eyes as well, this time down to the shape of it as well as colour.  
  
"He has, hasn't he, _Vatti_?"  
  
"May I hold him?" Richard asked softly; Nele, with her son in her arms, suddenly became reminded of the time (now nearly twenty years ago) when she'd gotten up in the middle of the night to see Richard fussing over a month-old Khira Li in their flat. So long ago, and yet so little had changed.  
  
Everything was eventual. She was getting to understand that now. "Of course," she said.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You remember him, don't you?" Nele cooed at the child. " _Onkel Richard_. Only he'd almost be your great-uncle more than anything. You met him once last year - I told him that you were my son and he looked at you like you were a rare orchid."  
  
Fritz shuffled in her arms silently, too young to understand, but Richard chuckled at the metaphor as Nele leaned over and let him take the boy from her arms. The first thing he noticed about Fritz was that he'd become a lot heavier and certainly a lot more active than before; at first the boy fussed and wouldn't hold still, not knowing what to do about suddenly being in the arms of an unfamiliar man. But when Richard stroked the top of his head and smiled down at him, he calmed down, staring up at his 'great-uncle' with inquisitive green eyes; 'Good boy,' he cooed, and bent down to kiss his forehead lightly, pulling away with a little laugh when the boy whimpered quietly from his stubble. Khira Li, too, had shifted so that she could sit closer to her father, and was happily chatting away.  
  
"He looks so much like Till when he was a child," the guitarist commented.  
  
"Did he ever show you the old family photos?" Nele asked, amused, and giggled a little when Richard nodded. "Fritz is probably just as stubborn as _Vatti_ was when he was young, too-"  
  
"I heard that," Till called from the kitchen, which incited mild laughter from all three adults in the living room. He emerged, wiping his hands on a piece of kitchen towel as he too sat down on the sofa; sensing that Fritz was becoming a little restless, the guitarist quietly handed him to Till, who held his grandson with joy. "I was nowhere near as stubborn as he, Nele darling - Germany then had no tolerance for such things. Not necessarily a good thing that I wasn't rebellious, though, children ought to be allowed to fuss as much as possible when they're little so that they won't get into trouble later..."  
  
Khira Li snickered. "Is that why you and _Vatti_ have stayed so rowdy over the years, _Onkel?_ "  
  
This comment made them all laugh. "It does look like it, _nein_?" Till chuckled - and Richard, observing, couldn't help but feel joy swelling up within him as he saw three generations' worth of the Lindemann family before him, all with eyes the same beautiful shade of green. They looked so much alike, right from their shared dreamy, casually-disdainful expression down to the colour of their eyes and the shape of their mouth. Of course he felt ever so close to Nele and Fritz despite being unrelated - he'd spent much time with her as an honorary uncle, and they were so much like the man that he loved. How could he not be fond of them?  
  
"So what's for lunch?"  
  
" _Kassler_ with some _Kartoffelpuffer_ on the side - we did think of doing it in the proper way, with a slow cooker and everything, but then decided that it'd take entirely too long."  
  
"And for dessert?" Nele asked cautiously; now twenty-six years old, she was past the point where her sweet tooth might possibly be seen as a sign of immaturity, but old habits died hard. Richard smiled at her, recalling how she'd take her coffee with so much sugar all those years ago.  
  
"Flake sent Till a whole _Kasekuchen_ and it arrived yesterday. We figure that that's good for all of us, do you agree, Till?"  
  
" _Ja_."  
  
\-----  
  
With the meal agreed upon, the two men withdrew into the kitchen to make the food (Nele and Khira Li offered to help, but they were ushered back, both fathers saying that they ought to relax when they had Fritz to think of); the younger girl stretched a little, and looked at the clock. "Well, we've got over an hour, we could go for a walk-" Nele shook her head and put her finger to her lips, indicating that she was to be quiet. "hmm?"  
  
The older girl gestured silently towards the kitchen, and for a moment her features seemed to gleam with childlike fondness and mischief. Till and Richard were starting to prepare lunch as promised; the former was peeling a few potatoes and tossing them into a large bowl, preparing to grate them for the _Kartoffelpuffer_ , while the younger man was placing the pork loins into a heated pan to be browned. "Till, wear your apron."  
  
"I will, I will..." the older man murmured, clearly not paying a great deal of attention to what the other was saying; Richard looked up from the pleasantly-sizzling cuts of meat and gazed silently at Till for a while, before he moved away and fetched a clean white apron hanging from the back of the door (both girls had to look away for a couple of seconds, not wanting to be caught). He then proceeded to walk right up to the older man when he put the peeler down, quickly tossing the loop of the apron over his head; he completely ignored the exclamations and protests of surprise from Till's part as he fastened the strings around his waist neatly.   
  
"You'll get grease stains on your shirt when you fry the _Kartoffelpuffer_ later on," Richard explained calmly when Till gave him an incredulous look. He lightly dusted the other's shoulders - smiled cheekily - and then flipped the cuts of pork over, turning the heat down a little. "and grease stains are not attractive in the slightest."  
  
The singer rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh, but he didn't protest; this seemed to please the younger man even more, as evidenced by the self-satisfied smirk on his lips as he transferred the meat to a pressure cooker. "Could you pass me the bowl over there, Till?"  
  
"You walked there to kindly fetch me my apron and put it on for me as well. If you can do that, you can get it yourself."  
  
The guitarist chuckled. "Ah. You got me. Good one, Till."  
  
"I try," the older man responded dryly as he began to grate the potatoes, but there was a sparkle of delight in his eyes that neither of the girls had seen often before. Clearly he was enjoying living together with his lead guitarist, appreciating the help and companionship that the other provided - and Richard, too, seemed perfectly content with that. Both men had come genuinely alive in the company of the other. "leave a few of the _Perlzwiebeln_ for me, _ja_?"  
  
Richard looked up from the pressure cooker for a moment, the meat within having been sufficiently browned and speckled with pearl onions, and nodded before he closed and set it upon the stove to cook. "I'm done. How're the potatoes coming along?"  
  
"Fine," Till chopped a few of the pearl onions and tossed it into the potato mixture with freshly-ground pepper and some salt. "ah. Even better."  
  
"I _can_ have a taste of it, right?"  
  
"Richard, it needs to soak up the flavor first."  
  
"Doesn't matter. It should still be good if you made it. Let me taste."  
  
"I ought to lay down firm rules as to what you can and can't demand while you stay here," the older man said dryly, but then he picked up a little bit of the potato mixture between his fingers, beckoning the other over. "I should know better, but really, I do spoil you, Richard."  
  
"You do," Richard grinned and opened his mouth, letting Till feed him the bits of grated potato, and chewed appreciatively. "oh, _ja_..."   
  
The older man watched him with a surprisingly-fond expression on his face, and kissed him lightly on the nose before going back to the potatoes; unbeknownst to the couple, however, both of their daughters were watching the scene with great amusement. "Well, it was about time," Nele simply commented, looking at the way the two men flirted as they cooked; Khira Li moved to stand beside her, watching them with a little smile on her face.  
  
"So... what are we now?"  
  
"Well, _my_ father is with _your_ father... and we have the same mother."  
  
"... So shall we just promote ourselves to sisters instead of half-sisters, Nele?"  
  
"That sounds like a good idea. We might as well have been ages ago," Fritz tugged lightly at her blouse. "he wants a little walk, don't you, sweetie? Let's go, it'll be a while before lunch is ready. Come on, Khira Li."  
  
"Right after you, sister!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **The Music of the Rain:** This takes place after Richard's relationship with Caron begins falling apart at the end of Ch.2, but before the actual breaking up. Nele is seventeen and almost ready to become independent in this one. I thoroughly enjoyed writing this one. I tend to associate certain weather patterns and elements with any relationship Till has with the people around him - in-story, fire and mutual pyromania are his main connection to Richard. With Nele, I tend to associate her with rain mainly. There is a bit of Till/Richard there but I think the best part is Till's monologue; indeed, I think that's one of the best parts in the entire collection. I'm proud of this.
> 
>  **Cross-Communication:** This was the one that made me hesitate the most, derp. Not only is this a very sensitive issue, I had to try to remain faithful and respectful to five people in regard to Richard's marriage to Caron breaking up. Not only did Richard and Khira Li need respect, Caron did as well - I'm terribly against Rammstein spouses/significant others/exes being bashed, because I don't believe in hating them purely for existing and having been involved with Rammsteiners. It's their choice who they choose to be involved with. But I digress - this is the little piece that really ties the two fathers and two daughters together, the latter more so than the former. I am still overall happy with how it turned out, and hopefully I have avoided any faux pas regarding this matter.
> 
>  **Another Beginning:** ... And this is the final story in this little series! If 'Cross-Communication' tied the four together, this one brings them together into a blissful, quiet tale, with the addition of Till's grandson Fritz Lindemann. :heart: I have taken some liberties with Fritz's age - deliberately left it vague - and I am not sure if he was indeed barely a toddler in 2011. Considering Till wrote him a special book of poems to read in 2012, I doubt it. I felt that it was for the best that I left his grandson a more idealized, vague picture, moreso than his children, for issues of respect and general not prying too much into personal family matters.
> 
> It's also a nice little teaser for post-Silence Till and Richard. Thank you for reading, and I shall come to you with the continuation of their tale very soon!


End file.
